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Ascendant Part VIII
Posted By: Archangel's Blade<archangels_blade@hotmail.com>
Date: 26 July 2002, 11:54 pm
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Authors Note: Don’t expect another part for a while. I’m trying to get this done in under 10 parts, so that means long nights, typing fast, and hoping that you all have patience to read all of what I write. And to add on to that, I’m trying to pull a group of writers together, to organize some ideas, and hoping fervently that Louis will put up with all of us rookies and our work.
I’d also like to let you know about the MR8B ‘Phase’ Rifle. Some may think that it merely charges the bullet, and this is a major assumption. I actually have gotten emails about this. Anyway, it looks like the MA5B in the fact that it loads and fires just like it. However, about halfway from the chamber, there’s the slot for the battery. It’s a tube with blue plasma inside it, and slides in to become part of the barrel. When the bullet passes through it, the plasma collects on it. THEN it flies out. It does NOT charge the bullet. The plasma collects on it, but doesn’t charge it; the bullet is treated with a plasma retardant coating. And just so that you know, it’s not automatic, it’s an auto-loading weapon, yes, but it does not have an automatic fire option. So don’t email me anymore about it.
Anyways, to the story…
Battlecruiser Bulldog
Orbiting the Human-Held World of Summer
7:12 a.m.
Commander Michael A. Sheener, Spartan #235, mark VII
Tommy 122 kicked the door in. I came in high, Leah 317 came in low. The Grunts never knew what hit them. My squad had sprinted halfway towards the next corridor before the Grunts’ guts settled on the table.
So far we had regained about 12 decks. However, new Covenant assault ships docked and offloaded troops at random intervals, so we didn’t know if our fellow Spartans had managed to hold the decks we took. Still, everything would be alright when we reached the bridge.
The lights dimmed as the Bulldog fired off another MAC heavy round. This had continued for the better part of an hour. From what I could tell, the battle between the Human and Covenant fleets was running fairly well; we were still alive. However, we occasionally felt the shudder of an impact from a pulse laser burst on the 8 meter thick Titanium A armor plating around the ship.
As we rounded the corner, plasma bursts came in high. The Covenant elites we found were obviously expecting us. Rolling to the left to avoid fire, I opened up with a fresh 30 round clip. Several high caliber rounds with the distinctive bluish glow of plasma surrounding them impacted on Covenant shields, which quickly faltered, making way for the rounds of my squadmates. Lead-filled craters lined the blue armor of the elites before we stood and moved onward. I noticed that Joshua 214 had a limp and a burn on his leg, but I said nothing. He probably was administering the in-suit medical system as I thought.
We arrived at the bridge doors several hours later. The MAC bursts had stopped about 43 minutes before we made it. Maybe we had won. Maybe the MAC system was destroyed. I decided that I would ask when we made it through the Titanium A blast door that sealed off the turbolift to the bridge deck.
We all shouldered our phase rifles, and found a good handhold on the blast doors. As one, we pulled apart. It took the better part of three minutes to pull the friggin’ hunkajunk doors apart. The turbolift was far below us, in locking position, to prevent access to the bridge. We decided to go up the cables.
Swinging aloft on a turbolift cable is not the easiest thing to do. In fact, it’s not easy at all. There are very few holds to grab on the shaft to steady yourself, and the titanium cables that support the turbolift chafed my armor a little bitwhen I slid. Not fun at all.
Upon reaching the doors into the bridge, I put my ear to the wall. I couldn’t hear a thing, even with the increased hearing ability my suit provided.
"Maybe they’re taking a breather," stated Archangel.
"Maybe they’re all dead," said Leah’s AI, Direwolf.
"Maybe they all ran off to get married to Covenant priests," said Tommy’s AI sarcastically. When we all looked at Tommy, his AI, Boxer, said nervously, "Hey, it could happen, couldn’t it?"
I ordered the AIs to shut up unless they had some sort of useful information to add. I aimed for a better listening point, and when I couldn’t find one, I decided to bust the doors open. We all gathered ‘round, and pulled the doors awkwardly apart. It, surprisingly, didn’t take much effort, and we tore them off their hinges with ease.
However, when we went to look inside we stared down the muzzles of Covenant plasma rifles and needlers instead of the MA5Bs and M202s of the marines. Oh shit. We’ve lost, was the first thought to run through my head.
Blue fire immediately consumed my shields, and I jumped down the turbolift shaft. I aimed for the cables, but the sparks flying off my glove on impact threw my grip off, and I ended up flipping over somehow, heading down the shaft face first.
Just when I thought it was the end of the line, Leah somehow grabbed my leg, and pulled me along as she skidded to a stop on the cables.
Once again, a hail of plasma rained downwards, and Leah flung me through the hole in the lower turbolift shaft doors before jumping through herself. All my team had survived except for Joshua. His limp was worse than we thought, and when he tried to jump, he tripped, fell down, and died upon impact on the roof of the turbolift far below.
Somehow, the Covenant had taken the bridge, and now had full control of the ship. We had no way to stop them. All of our fears came true; we were completely at the mercy of the Covenant. They now had access to the entire ships systems. They could vent the atmosphere, and kill all the humans on those decks. They could raise or lower temperatures, effectively making us broiled Spartan for dinner, with marinesicles for desert. And the Covvies would most likely have access to everything in mere hours.
12:43 p.m.
Battlecruiser Bulldog
Orbiting the Human Held(?) World of Summer
Commander Michael A. Sheener, Spartan #235, Mark VII
We had successfully overrode the Covenant access to bridge controls. A couple of techs for the SPARTAN III project were aboard, and had hacked control away from the bridge. All systems were now available in the cargo bay on deck D12, our new makeshift bridge and basecamp.
As I strolled past the weapons lockers, Archangel commented, "I have a feeling that we’re gonna need all that firepower."
"I was just thinking the same thing."
And I was. The marine and Spartan emplacements across the ship were constantly under attack. I had just arrived for some R&R from the cafeteria deck. The fighting was heaviest towards the bridge, and the enemy had somehow gotten a Shade turret into the ship, and had our forces pinned down for a while. A grenade made short work of the cannon, and saved a goodly sum of marines, hiding behind durasteel tables.
Watching the troops, I saw how low morale was. We had lost three decks to overwhelming amounts of Covenant. Grunts baying, charging down the hallways, Jackals crawling the air ducts, Elites barking orders and sawing down marines with plasma swords. And worst of all, Hunters vaporizing entire squads with one burst. The troops we had were too few in number in comparison to the Covenants seemingly endless army.
About a ½ hour ago, the Comm officer had gotten in contact with one of the other Battlecruisers, and had found that the battle outside the ship was won. However, the Covvies made a point of melting their hangar doors shut so that Pelicans couldn’t be deployed to help us out. The enemy wanted this ship, and they wanted it badly.
A young marine sat on a crate cleaning his MA5B. The haunted look in his eyes and his almost mechanical motions brought me back to the present. The young man looked as though his best friend, mother, and siblings had just been killed in front of him. I recognized him as one of the marines I played paintball with earlier. Private Jonuran if I remembered correctly. From the 3rd squad, ‘Upfront Assassins’ platoon.
I asked him what was wrong. He told me that his squad had been on one of the decks that we lost. He was the only one in his platoon who made it back. Others might still be alive, but it was unlikely. I knew it, and so did he. He represented everything that was wrong here: Undertrained, underaged, and almost in shock. The morale wasn’t going to hold out much longer. We needed a victory, or to get off this ship, one of the two nearly impossible as we had lost the hangars to the Covenant about 40 minutes ago.
Another young marine came running, best he could, into the base camp. The poor man was burnt from fire, plasma, and nearly exhausted on top of it all. He was lucky to have lived this long. He headed straight for the ranking officer: me. I was the first to hear the bad news.
"Sir, we just lost the Cafeteria. We would have held out, and we had the Covvies on the run, when something showed up. It was all orange and glowing, with these nasty-looking eyes that peered right into your soul. He just motioned, and half the front rank disappeared into flames! Sir, it looks like your ‘Ascendant’ is aboard, and he’s one cranky guest!"
Things just got a whole lot worse. Hell had just arrived, and everyone in earshot knew it.
3:56 p.m.
Battlecruiser Bulldog
Orbiting the Human Held(?) World of Summer
Commander Michael A. Sheener, Spartan #235, Mark VII
The warthog looked brand new. The chain gun didn’t have the scorched barrels common to the veteran vehicles caused by heat. The synthesized leather seats still smelled of the factory that made them, and the armor didn’t have the scorches caused by plasma burns. In every way, it was perfect. However, the way we were gonna treat this baby, it wouldn’t stay that way for long.
Several Warthog combat jeeps had been brought up from deep storage in the cargo bays we controlled. They were originally intended to help secure the base we planned to set up on the surface. However, before High Command could get the orders for the go ahead to us, the Covvies attacked, and we were forced to retaliate. We now planned to use them to recapture the ship we were trapped in.
The Covenant had taken another four decks while we prepared, and many marines had lost their lives trying to defend them. We had decided that we were using the wrong tactics, and decided to follow the Covenants idea of bringing in heavier weapons. The Warthogs would be driven and manned by Spartans, as the marines’ minimal armor was insufficient to stop the hail of plasma the enemy would be raining on us. However, our improved MJOLNIRNX armor would easily stand up to the beating. We hoped.
Leaping aboard the gunner’s seat in my Warthog, I motioned for my men, Tommy and Leah, to take their places as passenger and driver, respectively. When they were ready, we led the charge down the halls to the vehicle lifts.
The lifts led down a shaft to the cargo bays on the Covenant controlled decks. Hopefully, the enemy hadn’t found any use for crates of food and ammunition, and left the bays alone. If not, we could still continue, but the element of surprise would be lost.
Upon reaching the cargo bay on the target floor, we rolled off the massive vehicle lift into a cavernous room, filled with crates, Warthogs, and the occasional Scorpion Main Battle Tank. We decided that these vehicles would be our emergency stash, if we required it. We could always run out of ammo in our chain guns, or clips for our phase rifles, for that matter. The more, the merrier.
We quickly moved to the door to the cargo bay. With the touch of a button, the massive Titanium A blast doors opened to expose-
-nothing but empty hallway.
Something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t quite place what it was. I ordered Leah, who was driving, to proceed cautiously. I hoped that the enemy didn’t have any surprises rigged.
As the group of Warthogs fanned out into the hallways, I ordered one to stay behind, and keep the place secure for us in case of the event that we were forced to retreat. The remaining Warthogs and their squads of three moved down the hallways to perform their objectives. We were to head to the fallen Cafeteria zone.
We drove down the hallway, our new engine purring like a pussycat. I doubted that the Covvies knew we were coming. We occasionally encountered Grunts, Jackals, and the odd Elite, but that was pretty much it for the enemy. I began to suspect that something was afoot. But it wasn’t until we reached the Cafeteria itself that I knew for sure.
We rode into the caf, expecting to find Grunts and Jackals feasting on dead marines, claiming new prizes for themselves, such as helmets, and pretty much being the good old dumb enemies we were used to. However, what we encountered wasn’t what we expected in the least. Tables were overturned and melted. Bodies littered the room, human and Covenant alike. Grunts were piled in a gruesome wall 10 feet away from the tables. The humans were mainly behind the tables. But what really scared me wasn’t the fact that they were all dead, and there were no live Covenant around. What scared me were the familiar burn marks that marred the bodies of every one of their features into oblivion. Very familiar burn marks. Ones that I had seen a few weeks earlier, covering the bodies of the humans in Covenant cryopods, doomed to never wake up. Burns caused by the Covenant god-like figure. The marine hadn’t lied.
The Ascendant was here.
And it was obviously taking matters into its own hands.
I called in to the other Warthogs, demanding a report. All of them called in, except for one. The team I had left to guard our cargo bay, and our back door out of here, didn’t respond. Where the turbolift shaft was located that led directly into the heart of our base camp. I refused to acknowledge that there was a chance that the radio had failed; the Warthogs were brand new. The Covenant had finally made it through our lines.
And so had the Ascendant.
We were all that was left.
4:08 P.M.
Battlecruiser Bulldog
Orbiting Human Held(?) Planet of Summer
Commander Michael A. Sheener, Spartan Mark VII, #235
The Warthog was nothing more than a pile of charred and twisted metal. The dust and grime covering the floor had the impressions of hundreds of Covenant footprints. The bodies of the fallen Spartans were barely visible through the melted debris of the Warthog; so much for backup from the basecamp. The enemy had probably already destroyed it, and slaughtered the Humans inside.
We had only one choice, to get off the ship, and find a way to destroy it. However, we would have to remove the ship’s AI from the bridge, so that the enemy wouldn’t have access to any more info before the ship’s destruction. Besides, the UNSD needed every ship AI they could get. Due to the heavy concentration of the enemy in that direction, grabbing the chip wouldn’t be easy.
Nervously gripping my Phase Rifle, I looked in the direction of the cargo bay, and tried to decide what to do next. As I was the ranking officer, I would have to think fast, and try not to make my troops nervous. What to do? I decided to take the Warthogs to the bridge.
"Okay, Spartans, uh… We’re going to try to retake the bridge. The AI is our main objective, and secondary to that is getting the hell outta here. Of course, any ideas on how to defeat the Ascendant would be much appreciated. I mean that. It may come after us."
A chorus of ‘Yes sir!’ quickly followed. Archangel decided that he would review the disc, still in my helmet, for any clues as to how to defeat the Ascendant. I turned to my Warthog, and leaped the 5 feet into the air required to enter the gunner’s seat without climbing. I grabbed the chaingun controls, and yelled, "Lets roll!" One of the Spartans slid a disc from his pocket into the dashboard of his Warthog. He turned a dial, and out blasted the theme from an ancient video game called ‘HALO’. It suited the mood perfectly.
Turning back to the corridor, I gave the order, "We’ve got a lot to do. Move out!"
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