 |
About This Site
Daily Musings
News
News Archive
Site Resources
FAQ
Screenshots
Concept Art
Halo 2 Updates
Interviews
Movies
Music
Miscellaneous
Mailbag
HBO PAL
Game Fun
The Halo Story
Tips and Tricks
Fan Creations
Wallpaper
Misc. Art
Fan Fiction
Comics
Logos
Banners
Press Coverage
Halo Reviews
Halo 2 Previews
Press Scans
Community
HBO Forum
Clan HBO Forum
HBO IRC Channel
Links
Admin
Submissions
FTP Uploads
HTTP Uploads
Contact
|
|
|
Forsaken Forefathers part V: Boarding Action
Posted By: AlphaBravo343 and Havok
Date: 2 June 2003, 4:15 PM
Read/Post Comments
|
0500 Hours, April 5, 2553 (Military Calendar)/
UNSC Spartan-117, John, On board of Covenant capitol ship Mind of God
The Chief waited for the eight Forerunner troops to step through the open doorway from the hangar of the Covenant ship. They were remarkable soldiers, and he had never seen any soldier fight with such quiet fury before. They had widley expanded his horizons on the perfect soldier. Now they were stepping through the door, and it slid shut.
"Alright, let's move out," spoke the Chief. He felt odd, commanding a squad of superiour soldiers, but it was the Forerunner Commandant that had suggested thet the Spartans be the team leaders.
The Chief glanced at the motion tracker in his HUD, contacts in the next corridor. The Chief held up a fist, signaling for the troops to hold position. He stuck his head around the corner and saw a lone grunt standing by a control panel, he pulled his head back around. This was strange, it felt wrong. He had a feeling that this night would be full of suprises.
He popped his head out again, and saw that the grunt wasn't alone anymore, a gold elite had stepped behind the grunt and spoke to it in their strange, mingled tounge. He motioned for the Forerunner soldier behind him to move up and fire on the elite, their weapons cut right through elites shields. The soldier moved to the corner and slowly leaned into the corridor, a second later, a gaping hole had been burned in the elites head. The grunt yelped in suprise and fumbled at its belt, trying to unclip its plasma pistol. The Chief fired his battle rifle once and the grunts' brain matter stained the wall behind it.
They moved into the corridor, past the corpses they had just made, and into a large chamber. Just as a squad of elites entered the chamber through the door opposite to the Chief. The lead elite let out a cry, alerting its comrades, and they opened fire on the Chief and his troops. They sprang into action, the Chief rolled to his left, firing his battle rifle into the chest of the lead elite. The rounds ricocheted off of its flaring shield and smacked into the head of the elite next to it. The Chief grunted as he came out of his roll and crouched, still firing. The rounds drained the elites' shield and sheared through its muscular chest. Its howl of pain turned into a soft gurgle as it fell to the deck. He lowered his rifle, and watched as one of the Forerunner troops engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the remaining three elites.
The Forerunner soldier was a blur of motion as it dodged the elites' strikes and gave a counter-strike for each missed blow. It struck an elite in the stomach and its shield immediatley fell, the elite clutched its stomach and doubled over, then its was thrown back by an uppercut landed by the furious soldier. Its skull was crushed by the blow and it fell backwards to the deck, dead. The soldier was still combatting the other two elites when a gold elite sprang through a door next to the Chief. He quickly clipped his battle rifle to his back and grabbed his shotgun. He leveled the weapon at the elites' chest and settled his finger over the trigger when it swung its plasma sword at him. He lunged back and the sword swung vertically up his body, missing him, but managing to cut his shotgun into two pieces. The Forerunner soldier behind him opened up with its rifle, tearing three holes in the elites' chest. It fell to the deck, twitched twice, and was still.
The other Foerunner soldier finished with the two elites, who now lay in a twisted mass of broken bones and twisted appendages. It scooped up its rifle and strode back to the Chief, gave him a small nod, and they began moving again.
After thirty minutes of clearing the winding corridors of the huge ship, they came upon a large door.
"It reads, 'Abandon hope all ye who enter here'," spoke one of the Forerunner soldiers behind the Chief, referring to the odd inscribing on the door. "It is the High Prophets' Courts, this is where they would reside if they were on board," continued the soldier.
The Chief looked back at them, they stood ready. They probably would have gone into the hands of the Covenant Monarch if instructed to. The Forerunner had taught the UNSC much about the Covenant caste system, the Monarch was the one above all, the Emperor so to speak.
We should wait for backup," said the Chief. The soldiers relaxed a little. He didn't dount their ability, but he didn't doubt a High Prophets' ability either. "This is the Master Chief, requesting backup, I'm at the entrance to the High Prophets' chamber," he said into the COMM channel.
Several minutes later, twenty more Forerunner soldiers and five more Spartans came storming around the corner where the Chief and his squad were waiting. The Commander of the Forerunner troops pressed through the small crowd of soldiers and stood in front of the Chief. The soldier was much more muscular than the already heavily muscled Forerunner troops. And across the Commanders' chest was a two headed eagle, wings spread, emblazoned in platinum. The soldier extended his hand and greeted the Chief.
"I am Zon'talin, Commander of the Third battalion of Forerunner soldiers, it is an honor to meet you," spoke the soldier in a deep voice.
"Thank you, let's get to work," replied the Chief. He turned and stepped toward the door. It slid open softly and gave way to a large,open chamber. Eight spotlights shone from somewhere above on eight figures standing silently and completely motionless. He only knew they were alive by the steady rise and fall of their chests.
The Chief zoomed in his helmet camera and examined one of the figures. They were elites, but the irridescent armor usually present on elites was missing. Instead, their thickly skinned heads were bowed. They wore robes that hung to below their waists from around their wrists, which were atop long swords made of an unknown alloy. Their waists were clad with loin cloths that hung to their ankles. They had long, tunics that splayed limply around the immediate area around their cloven hooves.
The troops fanned out in the room and targeted the silent soldiers. They prepared to open fire when a booming voice spoke from a dark platform in the center of the room.
"Who dares enter my sanctum?" the voice thundered, full of malevolent rage.
We are the human forces, come to take you captive, give up now and you will not be harmed," spoke the Commander, stepping forward. The elites came to life as he did, drawing their swords.
"You were foolish to come here, Zon'talin, you and your men will die here," the voice spoke and the elites charged forward. The room erupted into gunfire as the soldiers fired at the elites, bullets twanged off of some unseen armor beneath their cloaks. And they began to slash into the Forerunner ranks. One of the elites charged toward the Chief, he fired his battle rifle wildly at its chest, the bullets bounced off harmlessly and it continued its charge. It reached him ans swung its massive sword, the chief jumped to the side and swung his rifle at the elites' side. The rifle smashed into its' unprotected side. It howled and swung again, fueled by its' rage. He sidestepped again and the sword glanced a piece of his shoulder armor, the small piece clattered to the floor and the elite prepared a final strike. Its muscular arms brought the sword above its' head, flexing as they struggled to stop the backward momentum of the heavy bludgeon. It began its journey downward and the elite groaned as it helped the blade on its' way. The Chief braced for the blow, ready to die, and something strange happened. The elites' waist began to glow a firey red, the Chief saw the elites eyes grow and it went slack-jawed. It sowly began a howl and the Chief looked down to see what had happened. An energy sword had plunged into the elites stomach, and it swiped to the left, severing the elites' torso from its legs. The Commander stood behind it with energy swirling around his hand, it looked like fire, and concentrated itself toward his fingers. It had shaped itself into a twin bladed sword, much like the elites' plasma swords, but more advanced. The Commander gave the Chief a nod, and ran back toward the fray. The Commander struck another elite in the back with his energy sword, and was searching for another when an elite ran up behind him and swiped at him with its metallic sword. The blade came down and was stopped by the Commanders superior shielding, and then electricity surged out of the Commanders' shield and fell upon the attacking elite, burning its' insides and launching it several meters away, where it crumpled in a smoking heap of burnt flesh.
The battle was over, and the High Prophet hovered above the platform. Four Forerunner soldiers fell victim to the onslaught. The Prophet slowly floated down the ramp and up to the soldiers. All of them had their weapons trained on the Prophet, ready to fire if it moved in a precarious way.
"Hold your fire," said the Chief. The prophet looked at him in the way a prey looked at its' predator, knowing that its' life rested in the Chiefs' hands.
"You may have one here today, but your destruction is the will of the gods and we..." he was cut short by the Forerunner Commander-
"Your gods have abandoned you, your destruction is our will, and we will carry out your sentence with ruthless tenacity," said the Commander, his voice full of vengeance.
To be continued...
|
