The Journey's End
#2 of Halo Chronicles
Warning: The following story contains harsh language and explicit scenes some viewers may not like. Viewer discretion is appreciated.
Index of Covenant Species
Grunts [Unggoy]
Prophets [San 'Shyuum]
Jackals [Kig-yar]
Drones [Yanme'e]
Brutes [Jiralhanae]
Elites [Sangheili]
Hunters [Lekgolo]
Prologue
**Covenant Holy City, Unyielding Faith
Ninth age of Reclamation** The Covenant Holy City, Unyielding Faith, hung like a mighty jellyfish in the midnight depths of space. Massive cruisers drifted lazily about it, shimmering in the starlight like tiny silvery fish. Within the domed chunk of rock attached to countless tendrils and spires protruding from the bottom of the mighty construction were a honeycomb of dwellings, docking bays and carefully shielded weapon emplacements. In the utter silence of space, nothing could be guessed of the political turmoil and backstabbing within the enormous structure. Many thought High Charity was the most corrupt holy city within the Covenant... They were mistaken.
A flight of Banshees circled outside the Ministry of Order, the main governmental building skirted by the banks of fog that littered the interior of Unyielding Faith. Inside, a Jiralhanae in shining crimson and black armor with golden glyphs and a long wiry white mane was being interrogated on a dais. Clutched in one claw was the ceremonial helmet marking him a Chieftain, and to the left and right of the hulking creature were stands housing members of the Covenant council.
"I am not sure I fully understand what it is you are telling us, Chieftain Phobos." a quivery voice said with surprising volume. Its source was a withered-looking San 'Shyuum Minister on a high platform before the Jiralhanae chieftain. A long ornate cloak draped over the Minister's frail form, hanging loosely over the edges of his hovering throne.
To his right was a holographic San 'Shyuum Minister, in a similar ornate dress, wearing large crown like headgear. Behind was a figure, shrouded in shadows, throne motionless, long fingers pressed together in a temple before him as he watched silently.
On tiers of seats to either side, Sangheili, Jiralhanae and San 'Shyuum alike leaned in closer as the first Minister continued. "Are you saying the heretic escaped your grasp?"
"Yes noble ministers." The chieftain, Phobos said with a little impatience as he bowed his head. "We did our best to track the heretic, but with the infidels desecrating Halo with their footsteps, and the Flood. We lost the scent and were unable to track the heretic in the ensuing chaos. We burned a section of land from orbit, but..."
"You burned a portion of Halo?" The holographic San 'Shyuum scolded. He waved his semi-transparent arms. The crowds in the tiers waved their fists angrily at the chieftain and threw curses and profanities in their native alien language. "Glassed a section of holy land? Desecrated a religious icon? Tell me I heard incorrectly, chieftain, but did you say you fired highly explosive plasma charges at a gift from the Gods?"
"Please understand," Phobos argued. "The parasite. We lost so many men. Our only chance was to burn the Flood infestation and hopefully destroy the heretic as well."
"Hopefully?" the first San 'Shyuum took over hoarsely. "You base the fate of the Covenant on a personal hope?" He angrily slammed a frail fist down on the side of his hovering throne. Impact caused him to sway slightly. "Your failure borders on heresy, Phobos!" He slammed his fist down again.
"Please, noble ministers, there was nothing..." the Chieftain started.
"Your pleas and apologies are hollow, chieftain!" the holographic San 'Shyuum yelled angrily. "You have glassed sacred ground, and cannot even confirm the heretic's death by presenting us with a corpse!"
"You were right to attempt to flush out the heretic with fire." said a voice as smooth as warm oil, and as loud as rolling thunder. It came from the figure in the shadows. The figure lurking in the background was in fact a San 'Shyuum, in even more elaborate dress than the other two. His eyes glinted as he glode forwards between his fellows, and took his rightful place at centre stage. "However, you must understand how we feel about this, chieftain. If the heretic manages to slip by the patrols securing that section of space, she could inflict incalculable damage upon the Covenant with her knowledge. She knows Unyielding Faith is incapable of slip space travel. She would bring the human fleet to our doorstep." The San 'Shyuum sighed, rubbing his temples in sadness.
"That will not happen, noble minister," the chieftain announced, raising his head. "My forces are gathering and are poised to return to Halo and..."
The spectators on the tiers to either side shouted in disapproval. Looking up, the Jiralhanae chieftain saw the Council frowning and shaking their heads at him as a few insults were thrown about the chamber. They obviously did not trust him enough to give him another chance. He would have to make his case sound more convincing.
"I have never wavered in the quest to fulfill our Covenant," Phobos shouted over their voices. "I have never before failed the Council and I will not do so now. I promise on the blood of my forefathers and the blood of my sons," he announced with emphasis in his voice. "You will drink from Zara 'Sofid's skull!"
"Will, make an example of this incompetent," the holographic San 'Shyuum whispered to the San 'Shyuum in the middle. "His incompetence is an embarrassment. If the hierarchs find out about this..."
"Silence, Punishment." Will raised his hand lazily and the other broke off immediately. "The Covenant does not forget those who serve it faithfully," he said softly. "Although your failures have lead to some degree of catastrophe, your military prowess makes you indispensable to the Covenant." He paused. "I will join you on your flagship and we shall return to Halo together. If the heretic is still alive, you will have the pleasure of killing her before me."
The Jiralhanae chieftain turned his head and saw two Jiralhanae from a different tribe approach to lead him off. Phobos growled menacingly, his eyes flashing angry red as he shook them off. Left alone, he padded towards the doors at the far end of the long room. The doors opened smoothly, and he heard Will's smooth voice again.
"The great journey waits for no one, brother." Came his voice. "Unless you succeed, the weight of your failure will stay your feet. And you shall be left behind."
Phobos held his tongue.
Based on a game by Bungie
Inspired by the ideas suggested by fans of 'Demons of Installation 02'
Written by SniperSpartan-977
**The Journey's End
The Final Age of Reclamation**
// 212th Battalion ODST 'Wolf Pack' briefing
// UNSC Prowler, Whisper Briefing Room
// 2552
The ODST cannot turn off like every other soldier. For the 'Helljumper' every aspect of his ordinary life changes. The pen in his pocket is replaced by a combat knife, his morning paper turns into a rifle and his glasses are replaced by a sniper scope. His trip to work becomes a danger filled orbital leap of faith, his nine to five takes place on alien battlefields light-years from home and nights under the starry sky with his loved ones are replaced by an evening trying to sleep in a dirty maggot filled fox-hole. His CO becomes his father, the men dying around him become his brothers and the battalion becomes his family. And only when he thinks it's all over and actually gets to go home does the ODST realize... it will never end. Things don't change back. The killing machine he was trained to be... he will always be...
The briefing room aboard the Whisper was pretty formal. Capable of seating up to twenty, the two tiers were divided by a single alley running down the centre of the room, and all the seats were facing towards a holographic projector that projected visual aids for the briefings that took place in this space. If anything, this room reminded Elliot of college lecture halls.
He looked across the room to see the battalion of ten other ODST dressed in black camo fatigues spread out through the twenty available seats, talking among themselves. Gunnery Sergeant Elliot 'Stray-Dog' Foster poured the last dregs of coffee from the canteen into his cup and replaced the Perspex jug in the coffee machine. Next in line for a strong caffeinated beverage, Corporal Brian 'Washout' McKay looked at the empty coffee can and tapped the sergeant on the shoulder.
"Hey, sir." The corporal asked. "How about some more coffee?"
"No thanks, bro." Elliot replied, walking off. "I'm good."
McKay sighed, spreading his arms and giving the squad's designated marksman a 'what the hell, man?' look.
The twenty four year old Earthborn wasn't the usual run of the mill sergeant material. Though you could take Elliot out of the hood, you couldn't quite take the hood out of Elliot. He had grown up an orphan on the streets of New York on Earth, hence the nickname Stray-Dog, or Stray. He had trained on Jericho as a Marine Corps Scout Sniper, before joining the ODST and continuing his career as a marksman. The difference however, was in the ODST boot on Reach he was trained to be a solo sniper, rather than work as a team with a spotter. If anyone in Wolf Pack could be called a lone wolf, it'd be Stray-Dog.
He wasn't exactly of large build like most marines, but he was quick and surprisingly cunning. His personality often varied depending on the situation he was in, and he had no problem giving and following suicidal orders, since suicide missions were commonly issued to the ODST.
Elliot sat down beside the squad second-in-command, Lieutenant James Simmons. The ell-tee was sitting in the front row; head resting in one hand, hanging over one of the files each of the members of the squad were given. Elliot hadn't even considered looking in the brown envelope yet. He figured, what's the point? Command were going to brief him on all the details anyway.
James Simmons was a colonist. He grew up on a planet known as Eden with his parents, brother and two sisters. He had countless friends, and all his family was accounted for... until the first Covenant attacks. He lost his father, his brother and all of his friends before they were rescued by a platoon of ODST. Inspired by his rescuers, and feeling an obligation to protect his family and future friends he joined the corps as a grunt and volunteered for the ODST, leading his training chalk with distinction and earning an officer rank in hardly any time at all.
"What's up, Jimmy?" Elliot asked, seating himself behind his mug of coffee. "Oh-four-hundred hours seems a bit early to brief us for a mission that takes place at twenty-hundred hours tonight, don't you think?"
"Hmmmm." The lieutenant let out in what sounded like a sleepy grunt, not taking his eyes off the file.
"You think this is some kind of black op?" Elliot asked, sipping his coffee. "I'm guessing the dudes at ONI want us to spy on a colony of Grunts. I bet those methane-breathing little bitch-nuggets are brewing evil plans to destroy our very way of life."
"Hmmvery good, Strayzzz." Simmons slurred in a soft tone.
Elliot turned his head and leaned forward to get a better look at the lieutenant's face. "Hey, ell-tee. Your face is on fire."
"Mmmmmokayyyyy." Simmons said sleepily, staring at the closed file on the desk before him through his eyelids.
Elliot smirked, shaking his head. "I'm banging Sarah."
Simmons didn't reply this time. He just let out a grunt that sounded like an acknowledgement.
"You still owe me forty bucks." The sergeant said.
"The Lakers fucking lost." Simmons replied, opening his eyes and leaning back. "And next time you even think of my sister that way I'll kill you."
Elliot smiled, before settling back into his seat. "Yeah. You gotta catch me first then, bro..." just as Elliot finished his sentence the briefing room's door swished open and a broad figure in black uniform entered, followed by a second man in a white naval uniform. "Officer on deck!" Elliot barked, jumping to his feet.
Immediately shaking off their grogginess and leaping into action, the ten other ODSTs on the chalk nicknamed Wolf Pack jumped to their feet and mimicked Sergeant Foster's rigid salute.
"At ease!" the black clad figure barked with God-like volume. His name was Anthony Wolsey, Major, Wolf Pack CO. Despite the fact he told them to stand at ease, in the presence of their commanding officer, the ODSTs hardly budged.
"Please be seated." The white clad figure said in a calm voice. "I'm sorry to get you all up this early in the morning, but ONI requested we keep this briefing as secret as possible. This means all non-key personnel are not to know about any of the details of this mission. Are we understood?"
"They understand, Colonel." The major assured, sitting beside Gunnery Sergeant Foster.
The colonel nodded and took a deep breath. "Alright. I am Colonel Alexander Porter, Office of Naval Intelligence. Do you know what I mean when I say your mission is highly classified?"
"It means we get lots of medals sent to our relatives!" a small voice said in the background.
There were sniggers all round. Even the colonel seemed somewhat amused. The major on the other hand wasn't having any of it.
"Stow that shit, marines!" Wolsey barked over his shoulder. He pointed into a mass of faces, not picking anybody out in particular. "Stray! Take that man's name for toilet scrubbing duty."
"Uh..." Elliot glanced over his shoulder, not sure whose name to take. "Okay, sir."
The colonel shook his head and continued. "Recon honed in on a foreign signal transmitted through subspace. It was pretty weak, and died, just before the scout ship got to the source. They recorded the transmission and searched the area... they found this."
The colonel turned on the holographic pedestal and the first thing that lit up struck everyone in the room with some awe. A large representation of a ring floated above the pedestal. Beside it was a scale model of an orbital gun station. UNSC gun stations were massive structures that dwarfed even some Covenant capitol ships. And compared to this ring shaped structure, the gun station was a mere collection of holographic pixels.
Simmons was the first to put up his hand and react. "If that representation is correct... that ring has a diameter of..." he paused to calculate. "Uh... ten thousand kilometers? That's impossible! Who the hell could have built that? Not even the Covenant have the technology for that."
"The representation is correct." The colonel assured. "It's from here the signal originated from."
Elliot was the next to ask a question. "What was the signal being sent? Some kind of warning?"
"A distress call and intel report." The colonel corrected. "There were fragments missing, but we're sure the report contained something about a Covenant defect."
"Covenant defect?" corporal McKay asked, raising his hand. "Doesn't that mean enemy of the Covenant, valuable ally for us?"
"Correct." Wolsey said, flicking through Simmons' copy of the intel report. "I'm assuming this is a recovery mission? That defect could hold valuable intelligence that may turn the tide of this war."
"Either that or we're walking into a trap." Elliot noted out loud, leaning back and twisting to face Simmons. "Hey, Jimmy. You mind being my meat-shield for this op?" Simmons laughed and punched Elliot in the arm.
The ONI colonel nodded to answer the major. "I received intel that ONI already had a recon mission in the area, but they disappeared. Shortly after, the signal popped up on sensors. This mission is dual purpose. Recovering the Covenant defect is your main priority. Survivors are your opportunity objective."
"Understood, sir." The major said. "What's the drop plan?"
"You'll be performing a hard-drop on the artifact, designated 'Hula'. The area around which the signal originated from seems to be glassed, but seismic scans indicate a honeycomb of survivable tunnels underneath." The colonel explained. "Technical jabber aside, we swoop in, drop your flight of orbital drop pods and go stealth. The velocity of your pods should be enough to break you through the ring's uninhabitable surface and into the tunnel networks below."
"Should?" Elliot whispered to Simmons. Simmons punched the sergeant in the ribs to get him to shut up.
"We'll obviously be in radio silence to stay hidden, but we will be sending down marines to secure a perimeter fifteen clicks from your LZ, outside the glassed-zone."
Elliot and Simmons both keeled forward and groaned painfully, burying their head in their arms. "Ugh... fifteen clicks."
The colonel ignored them and continued. "As per usual, your chalk will be first on the ground and last to be picked up. For extraction, reach marine chalk seven-delta and hitch a ride. Is that understood?"
Wolsey jumped to his feet. "Wolf Pack is all over it sir!" he barked.
The eleven other ODST stood and saluted, howling as one. "Hoo-ah!"
**Jiralhanae Battle Cruiser, Coagulated Spirit
En route to Holy Ring, Halo, Instillation 02
Ninth Age of Reclamation**
Jiralhanae cruisers seldom took aboard Sangheili, and when they did, they were often servants rather than warriors. Among the servant roster on board the Coagulated Spirit were various Sangheili servant girls intended to keep the crew quarters tidy, washing areas sanitary and cater for crew meals. Among the roster of eighty Sangheili women however, Nesa 'Tucol was possibly the prettiest.
She stood a little shorter than other average Sangheili and had a slim, lithe figure. Her skin was a beautiful shade of ocean blue, and she had dark blue gray freckles on her chest and mandibles. Her eyes were sparkling emerald green that hinted towards her strong willed nature.
Her beauty was both her blessing, and her curse.
Nesa came from a poor background. Her father had been dishonorably discharged from the Covenant military and they had been moved off their home world to the Unyielding Faith. Her mother was also a servant on Unyielding Faith. Her father worked in a small time security job, also on Unyielding Faith. Their daughter was often apart from them for weeks at a time as she served mostly on starships. And sometimes Nesa preferred it that way. It made lying about how she was treated aboard the Jiralhanae ships a lot easier.
Jiralhanae were brutish, merciless creatures, who often got what they wanted through force and violence. And a large bunch of testosterone filled males on a ship with the only females for several light years being the fragile, poor servant girls was just asking for trouble. Over the years Nesa had been subjected to abuse that would have broken any other individual. But no matter how strong willed Nesa was, there was only so much one person could take. Being pretty had its down sides.
Nesa threw her head back and cried out, tears running down from her eyes as the Jiralhanae's warm drool splattered onto her stomach. This was not pleasure, but both mental and physical pain. With every overly hard thrust, Nesa let out a fresh scream as she was filled with new pain.
Chieftain Phobos leaned over the poor girl and started to increase the rate of his thrusts, grunting and grinning. "Ugh... you're tight, breeder." He growled hungrily, one of his claws clamping the bed sheets beside her head, the other painfully groping at her breasts.
Nesa sobbed and clawed at the silk sheets below her feeling the chieftain dig deeper. With every thrust she was pushed deeper into the cushions of the Jiralhanae's bed. In the background she could hear the chieftain's most loyal comrades talk among themselves and laugh at the poor victim.
Suddenly the door to the chieftain's private chambers opened and a Jiralhanae captain, Phobos' second in command entered, his eyes widening at the sight of his chieftain raping the young servant. Nesa looked up and saw the look in the captain's eyes. It wasn't of pity or shock. It was that of lust.
The captain had fluffy beige fur that poked out of the cracks in his crimson armor. But no matter how ridiculous the captain looked, Nesa knew the Jiralhanae was extremely dangerous none the less.
"Chieftain." The captain growled, tearing his eyes off the Sangheili girl. "The Minister of Will wants to see you in the shrine."
The chieftain growled menacingly, straightening up and thrusting harder into Nesa, causing her more pain and him more pleasure. "What does that wretch want now?"
"He didn't say, sir." The captain looked back down at Nesa and licked his lips. The Sangheili could only close her eyes and pretend none of this was happening as she felt the Jiralhanae's member pulse and twitch inside her, telling her what was about to come.
Phobos grunted and gave one last thrust, spurting wave after wave scorching hot seed into his victim. Nesa didn't open her eyes as she screamed out loud. She didn't want to have to see that sick look of satisfaction on the chieftain's ugly face. Crying and sobbing, the Sangheili let out a breath, feeling the chieftain withdraw from her and his warm cum drip out of her and stain the bed sheets.
Phobos replaced the armor he had removed so he could violate Nesa and turned to the captain. "Dismissed, captain." Without a second thought, or so much as a word to the poor Sangheili he had just raped, the chieftain left the room and delivered the poor girl to his comrades who had gotten bored watching their commander get all the 'fun'.
Shutting the door behind him, Phobos started walking towards the minister's chambers. Will was getting very irritating, summoning the chieftain every damned hour. And every time was to complain about something. The food was inadequate, the ship was noisy, and the crew were incompetent. No matter how much Phobos respected the ministers as leaders, nothing would give him greater pleasure than to throw the San 'Shyuum from his throne and ram a gravity hammer deep down his throat.
The shrine to the Gods was decorated with shards of blue glass and glowing pillars of light running along the adjacent walls. The hall leading up into the private chambers was lined with Jiralhanae honor guard, sworn protectors of the San 'Shyuum. They watched as Phobos walked past them, snorting at the stench of incense and sweet herbs wafting from the chamber ahead.
He halted at the large doors outside the shrine and waited for them to open. The lights blinked twice and slowly the doorway parted down the middle, the elegantly ornamented panels sliding aside before the armored interior of the doors receded into the walls. As soon as the doors opened, Phobos struggled to drown a cough as he took a face full of foul smelling ritualistic herbs. Covering his maw with one claw, Phobos entered the chamber and saw Will praying at a circular altar bathed in crimson light in the centre of the circular room.
"You sent for me, noble minister?" Phobos asked, dropping to one knee and bowing deeply.
"Yes, chieftain." Will straightened up, backed into his throne and lifted into the air, hovering a few inches above the deck. He smoothly turned around and glode closer to the chieftain as the shrine doors sealed behind the Jiralhanae. "I believe it is time we were honest with each other, chieftain. After all, it was the arbiter who said during the taming of the Lekgolo, only with honesty can we attempt to gain each others' respect."
Phobos looked up with confusion in his eyes. "I'm not sure I understand."
"Honesty spawns trust, chieftain." The Minister of Will said wisely. "Trust spawns friendship. And friendship, if applied properly spawns respect. Do you understand?"
Phobos rose as the minister indicated him to do so. "I apologize, noble San 'Shyuum, but I must disagree. Power spawns fear. And fear, if applied properly spawns respect. My path is quicker."
Will let out an amused chuckle. "Yes. But I believe the arbiter was thinking diplomatically at the time." Will turned his back on the Jiralhanae and floated back to the altar in the centre of the room. "Chieftain, do you know why I sent you to kill the heretic?"
"You sent me to kill a lot of heretics, noble San 'Shyuum." Phobos answered. "Heretics are traitors to the Covenant, worthy of neither pity, nor mercy. Their existence offends the Covenant."
"Zara 'Sofid." Will said with a light sigh. "She was beautiful, was she not?"
Phobos visibly flinched out of the San 'Shyuum's line of sight. Gritting his maw, the chieftain paced around the circumference of the room. "Noble San 'Shyuum. You said you wanted to be honest about something. What about?"
"Doesn't it strike you odd that a loyal commander of the Covenant suddenly turns heretic overnight?" Will asked.
"It does not." The chieftain replied, halting before the San 'Shyuum. "Faith and beliefs can change rapidly. Look at how quickly the Jiralhanae embraced the vows of the Covenant. Though we are devout followers, our conversion was quick and effortless."
The Minister of Will grinned. "Quite so. Is your faith strong?"
"Would I be killing heretics for you were it not?" the Jiralhanae chieftain said in a low growl.
"A fair point." The San 'Shyuum chuckled. "Lady 'Sofid was branded a heretic before she even knew she was a heretic herself." Will let out a sigh. "A true pity, really. She had a great future in the Covenant. Until that... unfortunate misunderstanding."
The chieftain folded his thick arms across his chest, narrowing his eyes slightly. He could see where this was going. "She denied you." Phobos said in a low tone, fearful someone may have been eavesdropping. "A holy San 'Shyuum proposed and she turned you down."
"I am afraid so." Will nodded slowly. "Is it really so obvious?"
Phobos looked at the ground and thought back. "Only now. 'Sofid seemed so confused when we attempted to kill her. She is not really a heretic. This is a personal vendetta and everybody is too blind to see it."
"If this got out I would be shamed and exiled." Will said, his voice low. "I will have wasted recourses for a personal vendetta. You see how honest I have been? How much I trust you, Phobos... how much I respect you?
The chieftain immediately shook his head. "This changes nothing, noble San 'Shyuum. As far as I am concerned, the Sangheili are a weak race. Their beliefs are easily wavered. Point me any Sangheili, heretic or not, I will kill it for you."
Leaving the shrine and the honor guard behind him, Phobos felt good about himself. He had what any creature seeking power wanted... he had leverage. As soon as he was out of sight of the honor guard, Phobos reached under one of his armor plates and retrieved an aural recording device. Smirking to himself he shut off the device and stored it away safely. First he would deal with the Sangheili breeder who had shamed him before the council... then he would deal with that imbecile, Will.
// Sergeant Foster mission recording, 212th Battalion ODST 'Wolf Pack'
// UNSC Prowler, Whisper HEV storage, orbiting alien ring world designation 'Hula'
// 2552
Elliot looked at his shining titanium base orbital drop pod, also referred to as a Human Entry Vehicle, and cringed. He wasn't afraid. Just nervous. No matter how often he kicked himself out of spaceships and rocketed directly at the ground in a titanium coffin, he could never seem to get used to it. Every drop was a new thrill. Every mission brought a new adrenaline rush... the insane thing was... he liked it.
Elliot was what was classed among the ODST personal bravado as an 'adrenaline-junkie.' He had preformed roughly a hundred jumps and lived to tell the tale. Lieutenant Simmons was an example of a 'jump-whore' for completing well over a hundred-and-fifty successful jumps. The major had performed well into three-hundred jumps, many successful, and others breaking every bone in his body. But because he survived every one, he was classed as 'plain-fucking-whacked.'
The ODST division as a voluntary outfit, mainly because of the suicidal nature of each mission. It took a special kind of crazy to strap into a drop pod and be launched at the LZ roughly a thousand kilometers per hour. You were lucky if you lasted to the rank of corporal. And if you were really lucky, you could make sergeant, like Foster. And if you were brilliantly exceptional you actually made it to a mission commander rank like Major Anthony Wolsey.
The ODST uniform was a pressurized environment. He could 'space-out' and survive in a vacuum for up to two hours. Which was usually more than enough time for him to reach a pressurized environment. The BDU consisted of black camouflage fatigues covered with hardened pads across the torso, shoulders, wrists, hips and shins. Each of the 'Helljumpers' had pouches attached to their belts, and each marine had their armor customized in their own little way. Elliot for example had a flame pattern sprayed across the right side of his helmet, and a combat knife riveted handle down on his chest plate. Lieutenant Simmons in the other hand had a submachine gun strapped to the plates protecting his abdomen and had the names of each of the friends and family he had lost in this war of inked on his right shoulder pad. In a way he was fighting this war for them.
Elliot reached back and readied his BR55HB Battle Rifle and watched the ammo counter light up 36 as a female voice confirmed his ID. "ODST identification confirmed." She said in an emotionless flat tone. "Handler ID 'Stray-Dog'."
An identical voice was heard echoing throughout the bay as the other marines readied their own weapons.
_"ODST identification confirmed. Handler ID 'Washout'."
"ODST identification confirmed. Handler ID 'Major'."
"ODST identification confirmed. Handler ID 'Spider'."_
The process repeated for every marine in the same, tired, monotonous voice.
"Nervous?" Simmons asked, punching Elliot in the arm.
"No way, dude." Elliot said with a huff. "The only thing I gotta be scared of is the thought you may actually keep up with me today."
"Ten bucks says I touch down first." Simmons said, tucking his helmet under one arm and readying his assault rifle.
"ODST identification confirmed. Handler ID 'Simmons'."
Elliot chuckled, pulling on his helmet and hiding his face behind the silver tinted face shield. "Dude, you still owe me forty."
"The Lakers fucking lost." Simmons said, slapping Elliot in the side of the helmet before pulling on his own headgear.
Corporal McKay suddenly walked up, grinning dumbly as usual. "Hey, you guys having a race?"
The sergeant stared for a while. "Maybe." He answered slowly.
"Can I join in?" the corporal pulled on his helmet and secured his standard MA5C assault rifle on his front.
Elliot and Simmons looked at each other before looking back at McKay and answering in unison. "No."
McKay sighed and shook his head, skulking off to his own drop pod. "Wankers."
Major Wolsey started barking orders, throwing insults and shoving marines into their flying coffins.
"This is it." Simmons said, looking up as red hazard lights started blinking and alarms blared. "See you on the ground." He held up his hand.
They slapped a high five and knocked fists. "I got your back, bro." Elliot retorted, backing into his drop pod. "Hoo-ah!"
A moment later the hatch of his pod slid down and sealed with a hiss, plunging Elliot in total darkness. He was locked in silence and lost in an inky black void. Exactly twenty seconds after the last pod sealed all of them were dropped into space. Elliot's stomach span as he was propelled into space at roughly a thousand kilometers per hour. He had no idea where he was or where he was going. He had to just assume the Whisper had lined up properly for the drop run and try not to think about the fact they were falling feet first into hell.
Elliot pressed his chin against his chest and spoke, "Playlist four, track three, play." A moment later music blared through a small speaker in his helmet, just behind his ear. What could only be described as hard rock inspired by pure adolescent rage blasted across the ODST's private channel.
"Wolf Pack!" Major Wolsey barked over the music. "Sound off!"
The marines each let out a long wolf's howl to answer.
A few seconds later the turbulence rattled the gunnery sergeant's bones as his orbital drop pod hit Hula's artificial atmosphere. The twelve Helljumpers were dropping right into a hellstorm. Pretty normal for orbital drop shock troopers though.
Elliot watched the display in front of his face light up and display one of the external cameras as he punched through the atmosphere. Below him the surface of the artificial ring world burned. Wildfires swirled across smoldering fields of ash. Lakes and rivers evaporated, spurting gushes of burning steam into the air. Plains of dirt and sand turned to glass with the intense heat of the plasma residue left by Covenant bombing.
"Bro, this is insane!" Elliot cried out, stating the painfully obvious. "The LZ still too fucking hot. There is no way in hell we are going to survive landing in that!"
"Foster, you lapdog! The eggheads back at ONI have already run countless simulations." Major Wolsey snapped. "Scans indicate the LZ is unstable. Impact of our pods should punch us through to the survivable tunnels below the surface."
"Does anyone else feel this plan, like so many other plans ONI have ever given us, are all flawed in some ways?" The voice of Lieutenant Simmons asked through bursts of static.
"Feet first into hell is a figure of speech!" Elliot laughed. "I think ONI takes us too seriously!"
There was a short pause before Elliot heard the voice of Corporal McKay crackle through interference. "I'm seeing electromagnetic... we... experience long range comm... disruption..."
"Copy that, Washout." Wolsey replied. "Who's landing closest to the electromagnetic source?"
There was a pause of static, before McKay replied with "Stray."
"Great." Major Wolsey said loudly. "Our drop was pretty rushed. We're gonna be scattered and out of communication. That energy reading will be our rendezvous point. Stray-Dog, the moment you touch down, home in and secure it."
"Ooh-rah!" Elliot barked in reply, biting his tongue in the process as the boosters beneath his boots fired. The pod shook and swayed violently, crushing Elliot into the foot well of the HEV. He looked out the external camera and made out the ground rushing up to meet him before the camera malfunctioned and displayed only static.
A second later there was a gut churning crunch and a bone shattering halt. Elliot grunted as he was tossed against the front of his pod and felt a sting on the right corner of his tongue.
"Damn." Elliot whispered, looking around the dark confines of his entry vehicle. He checked the external readings. Sulfur, carbon monoxide... a temperature of 2000 degrees Celsius. He was sitting idle on the surface.
"Uh, guys." Elliot said in a small voice that grew more desperate with every passing second. "I didn't break through. Does anyone read? I'm stuck on the surface. Does anyone..." a sudden creak caught his attention as the outer shell of his pod started to warp and melt. "Well that can't be good."
The ground trembled and the pod suddenly shifted. It halted for a second, the there was a crunching sound and the ground fell away beneath Elliot. He cried out as the pod rolled on its side and fell what felt like miles, before finally slamming to a halt on solid ground. Armored plates chipped away from the molten exterior of the entry vehicle and support rails broke loose, tossing away entire surfaces, allowing cool air to rush into the pod.
Moaning under his breath, Elliot tore away the armor plates containing him inside this molten coffin and slowly stood up. The Helljumper activated his helmet mounted torch and scanned the surrounding area. Everywhere were smooth surfaces and ornate circuitry dimly lighting up sections of wall. Looking up Elliot saw a small ball of flame hanging easily forty meters above him, raining down shouldering debris. That's where he fell down what looked like a huge well roughly a mile in diameter.
"Stray-Dog, groundside." Elliot reported into his radio. He was only met by static. "Damn."
Stepping out of the wreckage he rode in on, Elliot looked down and saw he was standing on a circular platform near the wall of this massive tunnel leading vertically down into the ground. Walking up to the edge of the platform he looked down into the depths of the well, seeing only mist and darkness.
Letting out a low whistle, Elliot stepped back and looked behind him to see the platform led to a hallway delving deeper into the inner working so this artificial ring world. Pulling loose the BR55HB SR on his back, he shouldered the weapon and entered the hallway.
This entire ring must have been a honeycomb of passages and hallways. As Elliot faced his first eight forks in the road, he pretty much lost his way, following a small orange triangle hovering in his field of vision. Stubbornly he pressed on, illuminating hallway after hallway with his torch and crossing what must have been a kilometer of ground. He tried his radio several times, but there was no reply from the rest of the battalion. He figured these halls and the circuits running along the walls were messing with his radio.
After twenty minutes of wandering the endless halls, Elliot finally got a break. The hall he followed took a sharp right and opened up into a large rectangular room. He looked around and stepped back into the cover of the hall as the large room slowly lit up. Unidentified light sources shone brighter and Elliot could turn off his torch. Slowly stepping into the room with his face behind his rifle sights, Elliot swept left and right before pitching upward to clear a gantry overhead. At the end of the room was another doorway, shaped like the halls he had just been following with a sealed door blocking his way into the next space. Elliot gingerly crept forward, rifle leveled and head low, his back sliding across the nearest wall and his eyes flitting from left to right.
He reached the door and lowered his weapon to look through the small rectangular pieces of glass in the doorway. He could only make out darkness on the far side. Stepping back he reached out with a gloved hand and touched the door, looking for some kind of handhold or handle.
A moment later two green lights lit up on the obstruction and the door slid away in three parts. Startled, Elliot jumped back and snapped up his gun, waiting. After a while he realized he had opened the door and slowly moved to the darkness waiting for him. Gingerly leaning into the next room, lights slowly turned on like before. This room was even bigger than the previous. It was a huge cubed room with several gantries running overhead, and four glowing pillars or steel and blue light placed in the centre of the room, stretching up through the impossibly tall room.
Walking closer to the four pillars packed tightly together, Elliot saw what looked like a computer console. As he got closer, the console lit up blue and holographic displays and controls flickered to life on the surface before him.
"Whoa." The sergeant let out in a soft tone. "Very cool."
He reached out and touched the holographic display. He half expected his hand to pass through. It didn't. It was a solid hologram.
"Dude. Even cooler." The Helljumper said with a dumb grin.
Looking around, Elliot hung his rifle on his back and removed his helmet. Wedging it under his left arm, Elliot reached out with his right to touch the control pad. This was the power source mucking with his radio, so on the one hand turning it off would get him back in contact with his squad and on the other hand turning it off would mess up their rendezvous.
Sighing, Elliot sat under the console and waited, resting his rifle on one knee with the muzzle pointed at one of the doors leading into the room. All he could do now was wait for the rest of Wolf Pack.
**Jiralhanae Battle Cruiser, Coagulated Spirit
En route to Holy Ring, Halo, Instillation 02
Ninth Age of Reclamation**
"Back to your duties, breeder." The Jiralhanae captain growled, forcing Nesa to her knees in the middle of the hall just outside the bridge. "Watch those teeth now." He gave and evil grin, rubbing his armor's crotch region.
Of any way the Sangheili female could have been raped, this was the worst. Mainly because Jiralhanae considered washing like giving mercy. It never happened.
Cringing, Nesa leaned back, her emerald eyes glancing up at the captain before flitting to his two comrades, chuckling and watching eagerly. No doubt when the captain had his way with her, his two friends would get their turn... possibly at the same time.
Nesa knew if she tried to run she'd be found, beaten and raped anyway. There was nowhere on a ship she could hide. The only way out of this was to actually go through with it.
And then... something happened.
A low rumble echoed through the hallway. It reverberated through Nesa's chest cavity and caused both her hearts to skip a beat. Slowly looking over her shoulder she spotted a mighty Lekgolo standing not far away. The hulking creature took up most of the pathway, hefting a massive steel shield on one arm, and a massive plasma cannon on the other. It was clad in a light blue shell of armor with long spines fanning out from its back and seemed to be a single sentient being. But Nesa knew what the Lekgolo really were. Colonies of eels working together as one entity, living within an armored shell proving more formidable than even the Covenant Wraith tanks.
The single Lekgolo shuddered slightly as the eel colony within pulsed in harmonic unison to produce a low ruble. The words were more or less felt as well as heard. "What is the meaning of this, captain?" its voice had a certain echo to it, as if each eel spoke individually.
The captain visibly flinched at the sight of the Lekgolo. "None of your business, Suptim."
The Lekgolo rumbled again, taking a heavy step forward. "Should you not be watching the bridge, captain?" it said in a single monotonous tone. "The chieftain would be most disappointed if he would find out you are mistreating the handmaidens rather than fulfilling your duties."
The Jiralhanae, all three of them, let out a low growl and slowly backed off before disappearing into the bridge, sealing the door behind them. Nesa could clearly see they were afraid of the Lekgolo. She didn't blame them. As she faced the mighty beast, she couldn't help but tremble in fear, no matter how soothing its voice, or how noble its intention.
The Lekgolo gently held out its shield. Gingerly, the Sangheili took it and let the creature slowly help her to her feet. For a lumbering monstrosity, the Lekgolo was oddly graceful and gentle.
"Run along now, little one." The Lekgolo hummed in a softer tone this time. "We shall make sure no Jiralhanae bothers you in this manner again."
Nesa stood and bowed gracefully. "Thank you, noble Lekgolo. I am in your debt."
"You are not." The eel colony hummed, lowering its head and watching her thoughtfully. "But we could use the services of a Sangheili. Would you please accompany us?"
"Of course." Nesa bowed again and followed.
As they left the forward section of the ship, Nesa couldn't help think the Lekgolo a strange race. On the one hand they could tear someone limb from limb in a senseless blood-rage. Then, afterwards they could recite poetry. They were quite possibly the scariest race in the Covenant, but at the same time the most empathic.
Nesa followed the mighty Lekgolo to a chamber she had only been in a few times. It was a cavernous storage room where the Lekgolo on the crew roster came to rest. She had been inside twice for general cleaning, and both times it had been empty. This time was different. The doors swished open to reveal the dimly lit space housing two Lekgolo pairs, individuals of each pair sitting on straw mats facing each other, deep in meditation. There was a low rumble, like a persistent roll of thunder echoing throughout the space as the Lekgolo pairs hummed in unison to form an almost hypnotic sound.
The Lekgolo, Suptim led Nesa inside and sat down on the nearest straw mat. Opposite him was an empty mat. The Lekgolo gestured the Sangheili to sit. Quickly, Nesa sat facing the Lekgolo and shifted until she was comfortable.
"Your kind meditates often?" Suptim asked lightly.
Nesa nodded. "Yes. We do."
"We also meditate, but in pairs." Suptim hung its head sadly. "Our bond brother was taken from us in battle. We have no one to meditate with. Would you do us the honor?"
Nesa didn't hesitate. She was in its debt, and would gladly do anything to repay it. "Of course. The honor would be mine."
"We thank you. However, if you would like to humor our culture, we must first know you." The Lekgolo said. "What is your name?"
"Nesa." The Sangheili immediately responded. "Nesa 'Tucol. And yours?"
"Ranus Xono Suptim." The Lekgolo hummed. "It would do us a pleasure, and our brother honor, if you called us by our bond name, Xono."
"Of course, Xono." Nesa said, smiling and shutting her eyes.
Together, the Sangheili and the Lekgolo lifted their heads, calming their minds. Nesa slowed her breathing, and Xono let out a low rumble that joined with that of the other two Lekgolo pairs. The rhythm became mesmerizing, and Nesa found herself lost in its musical qualities. Her mind strayed to what felt like a memory. But something was wrong with the imagery. This was not a memory. The scenario was unfamiliar. It was more like a premonition.
She was on her back, laying in soft fine silk sheets atop a comfortable mattress, staring at the ceiling above her, her jaws slack. She felt content and safe, emotions she hadn't felt in a very long time. Pleasure was rolling up from her nether regions, causing her hips to slowly buck involuntarily. A low moan escaped her mandibles as she slowly stroked her hands down her slender body before running over the hair on the head of the lover granting her pleasures she had never known before. A soft wet organ inside his mouth touched her vagina and lapped up and down, gently penetrating her, causing the Sangheili maiden to cry out in pleasure.
Under the Lekgolo harmonics she could feel his mouth kiss her most sensitive regions. His warmth glowed against her skin. Every bit of the dream felt real. It was so detailed. She felt and heard everything from the roughness of her lover's hair, to the wet sounds of him pleasuring her. His hands brought warmth her skin. She felt his every movement as his fingers stroked her inner thigh, tickling and causing a warm giggle to escape her throat. Then something unexpected happened. An unfamiliar feeling. Like an explosion of pleasure rippling through her body, numbing her mind and contracting every muscle within her.
Nesa keeled forward and cried out, opening her eyes as pleasure rippled through her body. She glanced around. Nobody was touching her though. Xono sat several feet away, still deep in meditation. Never the less, Nesa reached down between her legs and found the region around her crotch had grown extremely wet.
The Lekgolo in front of her stopped humming and looked down at the Sangheili. "Is there something wrong, Nesa?" it asked gently.
"No." Nesa replied quickly, straightening, her eyes shining with a glimmer of happiness. "It's nothing."
Together they went back into meditation. The premonition swam into Nesa's mind again. The bed. The male. His mouth... only this time she was prepared. Nesa grinned and let the wonderful feelings overtake her... and for the first time in a long cycle, she was happy.
// Sergeant Foster mission recording, 212th Battalion ODST 'Wolf Pack'
// Instillation designation Hula
// 2552
Elliot raised his hands and caught the MK5 grenade before tossing it back to the owner. Private Pearce sidestepped and caught the grenade in turn as Elliot's throw was slightly off. Straightening up, Pearce threw the grenade back to the gunnery sergeant, continuing their risky game of catch at the foot of the glowing alien power generator.
With them, watching the two goofballs play with a grenade were Private Parker and Lance Corporal Boom, sitting against the nearest wall, their heads swiveling slightly as they watched the grenade soar between the two ODST. Two hours had passed on their mission clocks since the landing, and so far, other than Elliot, only three other marines had show up at rendezvous.
Elliot caught the grenade in one hand as Corporal Boom slammed a fist into the ground beside him and got to his feet, pacing impatiently. "Fuck this! Where are those shits?" he checked his clock again. "Its been two hours."
"The major will be here." Private Pearce assured, gesturing Elliot to toss the grenade back.
The sergeant threw the grenade back to its owner and threw himself to the ground beside Parker. "Shut up, Boom." Was all he could say.
If Elliot could have, he would have left Boom behind on the Whisper. He usually did more damage than good. He was crazy to the core. That meant good Helljumper material, but bad soldier qualities.
"This is bullshit!" Boom continued pacing impatiently. "This is so like the major. That bastard is doing this on purpose to make our lives miserable. Wanna bet he's already secured the mission objective and is waiting it out while we sit here playing hot-fucking-potato!"
"It's not that bad." Pearce shrugged, stowing his grenade. "We could have met heavy Covenant resistance."
"Don't jinx it, you fuck-stick." Boom snapped, punching Pearce painfully in the arm. "We could have a Covvie armada rocketing to our fucking position as we speak."
"Lighten up, man." Parker said, slowly getting to his feet and stretching his legs.
Elliot stayed on the ground, looking around somewhat absent mindedly. None of the others seemed to notice as they talked among themselves some more.
"Don't tell me to lighten up! Do not fucking tell me to lighten up!" Boom shouted, poking his trigger finger sharply against Parker's faceplate.
Elliot leaned forward and listened intently to something in the background. "Dudes, shut up a second." He raised his hand and gestured them to cut the chatter as he got to his feet.
"And don't you tell me to shut up, you earthborn turd!" Boom snapped, completely disregarding the fact Elliot outranked him.
Elliot twisted around and leveled his rifle on the corporal. "I said cut the fucking chatter!" he barked angrily.
Boom immediately backed down, raising his hands innocently. "Sorry... sir."
The two privates were about to ask what was bugging the sergeant, when they finally heard it themselves. A long wailing roar echoed throughout the honeycomb system sprawling throughout the ring-world. It ended in a painful shriek and was answered by a burst of faint gunfire.
"That sounded close." Pearce whispered, raising his rifle.
"Too close." Elliot answered in an equally hushed volume.
The marines slowly moved towards the source of the sound, their ears listening to more muffled bursts of gunfire answered by pained shrieks and howls. There were a few thumps of detonating grenades coupled with human screams.
"Shiiiiiiiiit." Boom said slowly behind Elliot. "That sounded like the major."
"What is that?" Elliot asked. He recognized something in the shrieks and howls. Something frighteningly familiar. "Brutes?"
Pearce shook his head. "I don't think so."
The bursts of gunfire came to an abrupt halt. There was no more shooting, no more wailing, no more shrieking. Elliot held his breath, slowly lowering onto one knee. Everyone was aimed at the doorway, several clicks beyond of which a fight had taken place. Whether the humans involved in the firefight had won or lost was still to be determined.
Pearce and Parker took cover at either side of the doorway as the panels automatically opened to reveal a pitch black tunnel stretching out before them. Elliot and LCPL Boom secured their backs, aiming over the privates' heads as they crouched with their guns leveled.
Everyone kept their guns trained on the darkness, waiting anxiously to hear something. Footsteps, the click of an assault rifle bolt, the sound of Major Wolsey calling Corporal McKay a lapdog. Anything to let them know whether the next incoming bodies were hostile or friendly.
They were teetering on the line between fear and anxiety. And then, suddenly...
"Sir!" Pearce whispered over the sound of closing footsteps. "We got incoming."
Elliot shifted, narrowing his eyes and lowering his stance slightly. The muzzle of his rifle rose and fell very slightly as he took a nervous breath. Something felt wrong. An ominous feeling of doom overcame him. Cold chills ran down his spine and a sick feeling in his gut told him something was about to go wrong.
A low rumble echoed down the hallway and met the ears of the marines. It sounded like the dying gurgle of a Grunt if you shot them in the throat. What followed were the most terrifying seconds of Elliot's life.
He saw movement. A human figure... only different. At first it was a dark grey shimmer, and as it limped forward, its horribly twisted features were revealed. The creature was hulked over slightly, wearing broken and torn remnants of ODST battle armor. The head, clad in a shattered helmet hung grotesquely from a few strands of muscle on its shoulder, and some sort of mutation had expanded its chest up and outward. Where its left arm should have been were now three long barbed tentacles that dragged along the ground, coupled with two shorter ones that reached down to its waist. The other arm at least still looked human and was holding an M7 submachine gun. Protruding from the zit riddled skin on its exposed chest were three long feelers ended with jagged barbs at the end. The feelers vibrated as the creature let out a rotten gurgle and lowered into a sprint.
"Whoa, shit!" Elliot cried as he squeezed his rifle's trigger. "Fucking shoot it!" he managed to let out before his voice was drowned out by the combined gunfire of the four marines.
Dozens of armor piercing rounds and fistfuls of buckshot tore away the creature's torso. Boom swiveled and fired, landing a shot in the creatures shoulder, tearing off its whole gun-arm. The creature didn't slow though. It kept running, even after the bullets fired from the two battle rifles an assault rifle and one shotgun blasted its large intestine out of its back, splattering the hallway walls in blood and spongy green particles.
"Fuck it!" Elliot cursed, hanging his empty rifle from his neck and tugging loose his M5 sidearm.
Squeezing off rounds as fast as his finger could tug the light trigger of the pistol, he loosed the entire clip of 9mm rounds before the combined weapons fire of four marines finally dropped the creature to its knees a meter short of their position. It let out a high pitched wail before Pearce pumped his last shell into the shotgun and fired, ripping a chunk out of the monster and dropping it for good.
Nobody moved. Nobody even dared let out a sigh of relief. That was just not normal. That... thing for lack of better description was human. It was wearing ODST uniform. It carried a human weapon. But then again, it wasn't human. It was some kind of near unstoppable juggernaut zombie.
Elliot slowly turned his head to Lance Corporal Boom and blinked behind his faceplate. "What the hell was that?" he asked softly.
"How the fuck am I supposed to know?" Boom replied simply.
There was a thud as an empty pistol clip hit the ground at Elliot's foot before he slapped a new magazine home, then in turn reloaded his rifle with choreographed ease, Elliot edged closer to the dead monster, keeping his freshly loaded rifle trained on its corpse. The feelers sticking out of its chest still twitched and it still let out a low gurgle. The fucking thing had most of its torso ripped out and an arm blown off, not to mention suffered excessive trauma to various vital organs.
Gritting his teeth, Elliot aimed right into the midst of the feelers and let loose a single burst. The three rounds impacted a balloon that swelled in the creature and popped, blasting a large gory crater in the monster. Elliot jumped back, narrowly avoiding a face full of green goo.
"Ugh! Dude, gross!" he let out, backpedalling towards the other humans.
"Christ, did you fucking see the patch on its arm?" Boom whined. "That was one of ours? What the hell, man? We are so fucking dead."
"Shut up." Elliot ordered looking around. He was trying to figure out what they should do. There was the possibility the major and the others were either dead or like this monster lying dead before them. There was also the possibility they had landed in a bio-warfare hotzone. He wasn't going to pretend he was an expert on biological weapons, but he could safely guess this was the result of some kind of contamination. A contamination they were probably swimming in right now.
"Do you see that fucking thing?" Boom pointed at the 'dead' creature as the tentacles still twitched lightly. "We practically obliterate it and it's still fucking moving!"
"Shut up." Elliot repeated, clicking his radio. "Wolf Pack eight-twelve Stray-Dog here. Any UNSC personnel read me? I repeat, any UNSC personnel please respond."
Annoying bursts of static were his only reply. Cursing under his breath, Elliot turned back to the others. "Alright dudes, get ready. We're getting out of here and calling for HAZMAT. We follow the underground passages for as long as we can and try to find surface access. Hoo-ah?"
Parker and Pearce nodded. "Hoo-ah, sir."
Boom didn't say anything for a while, approaching twitching corpse of the monster.
"Bro!" Elliot raised his voice. "Do you read me?"
The lance corporal quickly snapped his head around and nodded quickly. "Yeah, sure... whatever." He slowly trailed off and reloaded his rifle.
Elliot sighed. He'd report Boom for insubordination later, considering they got out of here in one piece. He really couldn't blame the corporal for being so insolent though. Their patience and nerves were being stretched here. There was no way of telling exactly how many more of those 'things' were out there and whether or not they would turn into monsters like that soon.
"Move out, Boom. Take point." Elliot gestured towards the doorway on the opposite end of the generator room.
The lance corporal was about to move when Elliot saw movement behind the man.
"Oh, shit..." he snapped up his rifle, but was too late.
A hulking creature, similar but larger than the last leapt out of the darkness and landed right on top of the LCPL. The man screamed as what looked like a Brute variant of the monster that rushed them earlier leapt forward and landed on his back, pinning him face down. The creature then brought a set of tentacle arms down, tearing the corporal's back open in one sweep. Crimson blood immediately splattered the walls as the monster beat the ever loving pulp out of the screaming marines. His dying gurgles and pained screams of agony echoed in Elliot's head as he sprinted closer, running as he fired. The other two raised their weapons but didn't fire for fear of hitting the sergeant as he charged the monster beating Boom into the ground.
Holes blasted clean through the mutated Brute creature as Elliot fired, skidding to a halt point blank range. He depressed the trigger twice more, loosing six more rounds into the beast, causing it to stumble back, but stay on its feet. At least it was off Boom, giving Elliot a chance to stoop and grab the corporal's arm. As he attempted to drag the corporal to safety however, Elliot heard a tearing sound and stumbled as Boom's arm tore free of his torso.
"Shit!" Elliot cursed, landing flat on his ass, dropping the stiff dismembered limb at his feet, staring at the dead soldier lying before him.
Boom was no longer as Elliot recognized him. He was merely a sack of pink flesh and bits of jagged blood stained bones breaking free from the fragile layer of skin that held him together. Looking up, Elliot saw several more of the creatures storm closer out of the darkness. He lost count in seconds. They crawled over each other to get at the three remaining humans. Why? To eat them, or just beat the living crap out of them? The sergeant didn't really care. Scrambling back onto his feet, Elliot sprinted, passing Parker and Pearce, patting one of the marines on the shoulder as he passed.
"Fall back!" the gunnery sergeant yelled. "Just fucking run!"
There was no point providing fire cover for each other while falling back. One gun could stumble one, but it took the combined sustained gunfire of four just to drop one of the ugly fuckers. There was no way in hell short bursts fired from one marine could possibly slow a horde of five and counting.
Elliot glanced over his shoulder as he cross the generator room and slipped into a new set of halls, privates Parker and Pearce at his heels. The pursuing creatures were roughly five meters away, and were numbering about eight now. These bastards were coming out of nowhere. There were a few streaming out of the third and last door leading into the generator room the marines were leaving behind. Elliot could only hope they weren't running into the arms of another group.
"They're gaining!" Parker shouted. "Fucking pick that shit up, sir!"
Elliot lowered his head and pushed himself. Sprinting wasn't an easy task under forty pounds of gear. Never the less, he dragged out every ounce of energy he had ran faster, skidding around a sharp right turn and following the next tunnel, losing his sense of direction seconds. The trio were lost, but they didn't care. The creatures numbering in the tens were still hot on their tails. Finding their way around was not a priority right now. Surviving was.
Elliot skidded left and stumbled, breaking into a fresh burst of speed. He looked right as a wall panel at about head height seemed to disappear from view. The long observation window revealed a huge shaft dropping deep into the ground running along their right. Up ahead was a sharp right turn leading onto a long bridge leading across the impossibly colossal shaft and into a new network of tunnels.
Something popped into Elliot's head. Something he had learned in battle class several years ago. A historical battle. He didn't actually know if it had actually taken place, or whether it was complete bullshit. Something about three hundred Greek soldiers holding off a Persian empire of millions for weeks by driving them into a narrow gulley. Numbers and firepower had no advantage over the Greeks who had the advantage of skill and the 'high-ground' as it were. Bottlenecked, the Persians fell victim to soaring spears and rocks tumbling into their masses. Had the Greeks had explosives they could have wiped out the entire empire in one defensive stand... and that's what gave Elliot an idea.
"Drop frags on my go!" Elliot barked. "I've got a Greek idea!"
"What did he say?" Pearce asked the other private as he grabbed the grenade they had been playing catch with earlier. "A geek idea? What the hell does computer physics have to do with grenades?"
Elliot reached the edge of the long side-less bridge and cried out. "Frag 'em!"
Parker and Pearce stopped and tossed their primed grenades before dashing after Elliot. There were a pair of thumps, killing the front line of monsters and staggering the others, buying precious few seconds. Elliot reached the centre of the bridge and dropped to his knees. Sliding to a halt, the Helljumper pulled out a can of C12 explosive and sprayed a three inch line of quick hardening explosive material across the pathway. Parker and Pearce passed him out as he jabbed a detonator into the C12 and got to his feet. Fumbling for his remote as he ran, Elliot activated the encrypted channel and squeezed the trigger. Parker stopped at the far end of the bridge, turned and faced the incoming foes. They reached the centre of the bridge and hopped over the line of C12 unhindered.
"Go! Go! Go!" Parker yelled, suppressing the creatures with shotgun fire as Elliot ran past. "I'm right behind you!"
Elliot and Pearce disappeared into the tunnel system behind Parker turned a sharp corner, listening to muffled gunfire. The gunnery sergeant counted slowly to ten, hearing Parker yell something.
"You want some of this?" he shouted over rapid shotgun blasts. "Do-you-want-some-of-this?"
"Parker!" Elliot yelled while running. "Move your ass!"
He let go of the trigger and a moment later the bridge went up in flames. The explosion curled upwards, vaporizing everything in its path. The tremors were felt rippling away from the source of the blast, causing Elliot and Pearce to stop and look over their shoulder to find the Parker was no longer with them...
**Jiralhanae Battle Cruiser, Coagulated Spirit
Orbiting Holy Ring, Halo, Instillation 02
Ninth Age of Reclamation** Will let out a satisfied sigh, leaning back in his throne and draping his robes back over his grossly skinny form as his chambers' doors closed behind him. He slowly rotated the throne right and straightened all the tools he had used on the tray hovering beside him. Some of the instruments were frightening merely to look at, and others were stained in purple Sangheili blood. Among the various blades, prods and whips were also restraint devices and gagging materials. All the instruments the San 'Shyuum needed to satisfy his unique desires. His desire was not only that for pleasure, but also that for blood. The more pain his victim was in, the better, and the more blood he could see, the more he would get off. Nobody, not even the honor guard knew of his fetish... it was only known to the poor Sangheili handmaidens who served on his ships. And after all. Who would listen to the ravings of a mere breeder?
He had on numerous occasions attempted to satiate his appetite on Kig-yar ship mistresses whose ships he had travelled on, but found the experience somewhat less pleasurable. Kig-yar females had thick patches of hide on their backs and shoulders, making them practically invulnerable to the back-biting common during Kig-yar mating. And thus Will would be less capable of inflicting pain. Besides, Sangheili females, especially the one he had just taken, were by far more attractive than Kig-yar and Unggoy females, more satisfying than the females of his own species, and generally more accessible than Jiralhanae women. The Minister of Will shuddered to think what a Jiralhanae woman would be like. Were they as brutish as the males Will had to endure the company of every blasted day?
"Hide." The San 'Shyuum commanded, and the table of frightful instruments immediately obeyed, swooping across the room and tucking itself away behind a set of drapes.
Redirecting his throne, the minister gently hovered across his chambers and slowly set down on a stand built into the floor of his private haven. A pair of clamps clicked loudly and the hum the San 'Shyuum's throne emitted slowly died as it receded into the floor. Coming to a gentle halt, Will climbed out of the charging throne and placed his bare feet on the warm floor. Slowly pacing across the room, the San 'Shyuum stretched out his arm and ran his wrinkled fingers across a set of drapes before halting by a elegantly curved desk set against an arched wall opposite the glass ornamented doors leading out of his chambers. Sitting in a pile of cushions, the minister placed his elbows on the desk surface and allowed his fingers to form a temple as he closed is large almond shaped eyes and sighed. This time it was not a sigh of satisfaction. This was a sigh of anticipation.
Soon that Sangheili whore who had denied him would die by the hands of Phobos, and then Will would be able to rid himself of that blundering buffoon. Had the chieftain preformed his task with more honour and resolution the first time around they wouldn't be returning to Halo to attempt to repair the damage that worthless ape had inflicted. Imagine, burning the surface of a relic of the Gods! Whatever had Phobos been thinking? He almost regretted telling the chieftain the truth of his intentions, but then thought of how effective he needed that worthless pawn. Will refused to be damned by the Hierarch Council because a simple act of revenge could not be carried out flawlessly and discreetly.
Will almost vented, but remembered the teachings of his brother, the Minister of Calm. He turned his anger inwards and stored it away for later. He would find another Sangheili handmaiden with which he would be able to ease his tension later. But for now he had to prepare for a ceremony. Before sending the Huragok and the Unggoy down to Halo for immediate maintenance of the surface he would give them his blessing in the form of a sermon honouring the Forerunners.
As Will opened his eyes and went about preparing his speech for the sermon, an intercom speaker crackled above his head, hissing static at first before the ship captain's voice became audible. Will scowled. Not only had he to endure poor quality machinery on this pile of faeces the Jiralhanae considered a ship, he had to interrupt his preparations.
"Noble Minister." The captain said respectfully. "We have arrived at the holy ring... but..." the captain hesitated.
"What is it captain?" the San 'Shyuum said impatiently.
"There..." the captain took a breath. "There is a human ship orbiting Halo. I believe they spotted us entering the system and are attempting to mask themselves by jamming our sensors. We have acquired a weapons lock however."
"Well then, captain." Will said with a snarl. "Why are you talking to me and not burning their infidel hides?"
"Y-yes, noble minister."
// Lieutenant Simmons mission recording, 212th Battalion ODST 'Wolf Pack'
// Instillation designation Hula
// 2552
"... I'm thinking of a word. Four letters long, and describes a valiant person." McKay said, edging forward and leaning around a cover with his assault rifle shouldered. His torch sliced through the darkness and disappeared down the endless corridor branching right from their route.
"He's not even trying anymore." Simmons muttered under his breath, keeping his own rifle shouldered and moving past McKay to secure their advance through the endless honeycomb of tunnels that seemed to stretch on and on. He dropped a chemical flare behind him, leaving a glowing green trail so in case they got lost they wouldn't end up walking in circles. The only problem was that the flare he just dropped was the last one they had, and they hadn't even covered a fraction of Hula yet. "Is it 'hero' by any chance?"
"Yeah... how'd you know that?" McKay lowered his gun and followed the lieutenant onwards. "That was like my hardest one."
Simmons rolled his eyes and moved on, guided by their helmet mounted torches.
A few minutes later they halted by a sealed door and waited a second as it parted three ways before they could continue into the next room. They had been through this for the past half an hour now. They'd follow pitch black hallways for a certain time, reach a door that goes into a larger well lit room, then get lost in endless hallways again. It was getting so repetitive, Simmons was almost getting careless.
Stepping inside, Simmons snapped up his gun, swept left, then right and angled upward to check for anything above him. The room was empty.
McKay stepped into the new room and watched Simmons edge towards a pair of cylinders standing against the far wall. "Are we there yet?" the corporal asked.
"Dunno, man." The ell-tee replied, slowly setting one gloved hand against one of the cylinders. They were both perfectly smooth and their surface was so cold Simmons could feel the chill through his glove. "All these rooms seem the same to me."
"Maybe we should backtrack." McKay suggested, looking back the way they came. "Before our NAV points fuzzed out, I'm sure I saw our rendezvous was less than a click away. If we double back and try to..." he stopped as Simmons let out a surprised gasp and jumped back from the two pods.
There was a burst of soft light and a holographic panel of some sort lit up between the two cylindrical pods. At first Simmons couldn't make sense of the symbols scrolling through the air between the two cylinders, before the pixels focused and came together to form a flat panel on which buttons and dials made of light were made. McKay stepped closer and examined the various dials and buttons that blinked to life before his eyes. Slinging his rifle across his back, the corporal stepped forward and reached out as Simmons hovered close behind him, watching silently over his shoulder.
McKay touched the first dial and found his hand didn't pass through the console like he expected it to. This was some kind of solid hologram. "Wow. That's pretty neat." He said nodding. "I wonder what would happen if I press this." He slid his hand across the console and touched one of the buttons.
He was about to push when a voice cut through the air. "No, reclaimer, that would certainly kill the occupants of cryogenic stasis bay Reclamation-6." The voice seemed to originate from everywhere, and sounded female and metallic. At the same time it had a formal sort of politeness about it and maintained a constant pleasant tone. "May I suggest you initiate the automatic revival process and allow my systems to administer proper medication so that the occupants may wake under safer conditions."
McKay and Simmons were no longer listening at this point. Both had jumped back from the pods, stood back to back with their rifles leveled at opposite sides of the brightly lit room.
"I find this situation reasonably disconcerting, corporal." Simmons said.
"Ditto, sir." McKay agreed, before calling out. "Who's there?"
"I am Mystic Beauty, Registration Number: 8559243, Monitor of Installation zero-two." The voice politely introduced.
"Ooookay. Sounds like Hula has its very own AI." Simmons said slowly, lowering his gun slightly. "Where exactly are you?"
"My apologies for not appearing to you physically. My corporeal form was destroyed in the Flood outbreak shortly after I sent his voice to the stars." The voice explained. "I was forced to transcend."
"You sent the signal?" McKay asked, a little unsure.
"Yes." The voice of Mystic Beauty said. "Under order of the one like you, and the other."
McKay sighed. "Corporeal form? Flood outbreak? Transcend? One like us and another?" he asked Simmons over his shoulder. "I can tell this is gonna be a fun conversation."
"One like us means human, doofus." Simmons sighed. "So I guess the other could be the Covenant defect." He raised his voice so Serene Beauty could hear. "The one like us and the other. Where are they?"
"You are before them as they slumber." Mystic Beauty said. "They are embraced in the cold sleep which preserves their life. This was my purpose many cycles ago... I could not protect then, but I will strive to do better. I will not fail my masters again."
Simmons noticed some faint static in the monitor's voice. Obviously this Mystic Beauty was an Artificial Intelligence, and was probably degrading into a state common among UNSC AI known as 'rampancy'.
"The meddlers seek to activate the Halo network." Mystic Beauty rambled on. "They would destroy cycles of evolution, bring an end to all life once more without reason. They would destroy this galaxy because of misplaced beliefs."
"Your two guests." Simmons said, raising his voice and ignoring everything the AI just said to them. "They are in cryo here?" he pointed at the two cylinders. "How do we revive them?"
"Initiate the revival process on that terminal." The monitor said.
Moving back to the holographic console, McKay reached out until his hand neared a dial. The moment it got within touching distance, Mystic Beauty hummed loudly.
"Hmmm. No reclaimer, that would certainly kill them." She said calmly in an oddly kind tone.
Quickly pulling his hand back, the corporal shook his head frustrated and gingerly reached out to the next dial.
"No, that would wake them, but quite suddenly and leave them immobilized for several hours." Mystic Beauty said formally.
Simmons sighed and ran a hand over his visor as McKay decided which dial to try next. "Seriously. Either help us out here or I'm gonna blast your virtual ass into actual dust."
"That dial to the right of the centre of the console, reclaimer." The monitor said. "Turn it slowly to the right. The console should light up green."
McKay swallowed and did as the monitor instructed. He touched the knob, locked his fingers around it and slowly turned it clockwise. The display flickered, refreshing at a sluggish frame rate as the dial turned in his hand.
The panel suddenly lit up green and the pods hissed icy cold white clouds into the air. Slowly the covers of the pods lifted up slightly and slid to one side. McKay and Simmons stepped back and raised their rifles until they pointed at the feet of the pods. The clouds parted and distorted shapes hidden within the confines of the cryogenic stasis pods materialized.
The mist covering the cryo pods cleared painfully slowly, revealing their contents. The one of the right was empty, the one on the left however was fuller than the ODST expected.
The armor clad figure inside slowly lifted his head, his golden visor catching the room's light and reflecting it in the ODSTs' eyes. Reaching forward, the Spartan locked a gauntlet around the rim of the stasis pod and pulled himself to his feet. McKay and Simmons couldn't help step back nervously, realizing what they were looking at. A Spartan-III, roughly the same height as the two ODST and clad in what looked like a black stripped down version of the MJOLNIR Mark VI armor Spartan-II's wore.
A bar-code materialized on Simmons' HUD, hovering over the Spartan's head, identifying him as Master Chief Petty Officer Nathan Matthews.
"Master Chief, sir!" both Helljumpers jumped into a salute. "212th battalion ODST, 'Wolf Pack'. We're here to get you to safety."
The Spartan looked between the marines before him, slowly running a gauntlet across the side of his helmet. "Master..." he paused shaking his head. "Master Chief? No, I'm a petty officer."
"Looks like you got a promotion then. Congratulations, sir." Simmons said. "We'll bake you a cake later. Right now we got to get out the hell of here before any Covenant converging on this giant hula-hoop notices we're trespassing."
"And before you are consumed by the Flood outbreak." Mystic Beauty added.
The Spartan looked around as if to try and identify the owner of the disembodied voice. "Mystic Beauty. It looks like your idea worked. Thanks."
"It is my duty to serve, reclaimer." The monitor replied kindly.
McKay shrugged and stepped closer. "Trust me guys, we'll wanna leave the pleasantries, briefings and overall explanations to later. Best thing we could do now is get to the perimeter and wait for pickup."
"Agreed." The Spartan, Matthews nodded in agreement. "Give me a second to..." he didn't get to finish as McKay jumped back, seeing the air shimmer by the Spartan's left shoulder.
At first the corporal though it could have been a vent blowing hot air into the room. He immediately forgot about that theory as a Covenant Elite materialized beside Matthews.
One second it wasn't there, and within the blink of an eye it was. The transparent Elite materialized out of thin air, clad in cyan combat armor. The alien stood a little taller than an average human, and was built rather slimly. As a matter of fact, she had a physique matching that of an attractive human woman.
Simmons hesitated only for a second before leaping into action, years of instinct and combat experience kicking in. It was like a switch was thrown within him. The lieutenant darted forward, shoved the corporal aside, tugging loose the pistol strapped to McKay's as he passed. The Spartan stumbled as Simmons shouldered past, but didn't quite fall, immediately balancing himself and reaching out to hold the marine back.
The ell-tee managed to cry out as he grabbed the Elite by the throat, pinned her against the holographic terminal between the two cryo pods and drove the barrel of the sidearm up between her mandibles. Lucky he caught her off guard, otherwise the alien would have just brushed him off with ease.
"Lieutenant!" Matthews barked, stepping forward and grabbing hold of the hand holding the gun shoved down the alien's throat. "Stand down! Zara is on our side."
Simmons pressed the gun tighter against the roof of the Elite's mouth, his trigger finger instinctively twitching. He took a long breath and fought against the Spartan's tight grip on his wrist.
"C'mon, now." Matthews said softly. "She is the Covenant defect I mentioned in my report."
The lieutenant looked back at the Spartan. Gritting his jaw he let go of the Elite and took a step back, pulling the weapon from the alien's mandibles, but keeping it trained on her chest. This all seemed wrong. A Spartan protecting a Covenant? This was definitely not covered in the Marine Corps basic training manual.
Eventually, Simmons lowered the weapon. The Spartan snatched the .50 cal magnum out of the ODST's hand and stood between the lieutenant and the alien. Stepping back, Simmons gave an apologetic wave. "Sorry, sir. Instinct." He still however glared untrustingly behind his faceplate at the Elite. Her kind had been killing his for longer than the human could remember. Something about having to protect and extract this alien seemed downright wrong.
The Elite slowly put a slender hand the Spartan's shoulder and shook out her jaws. "This is our rescue team?"
"Hopefully two of many more." Matthews said. "The Flood are relentless. We're going to need all the soldiers we can get."
The Elite observed the two ODST for a moment before shutting her eyes and bowing gracefully. "I am Zara 'Sofid, once a pawn the Covenant."
"Our mission is to secure you and rescue human survivors." Simmons said shortly, looking at the Spartan and avoiding the Elite's gaze. "There any more of you, sir?"
Matthews stared for a second, then sighed and hung his head. "No... we're all that's left."
Simmons tightened the grip on his rifle, feeling a pang of pity for the Spartan. He had to remember the master chief was still human, still flesh and blood in a fancy suit. They were soldiers, making them more alike than was visually obvious. They had the same kind of scars...
"I'm sorry, sir." Simmons said softly before shouldering his rifle. "The rest of our chalk is as lost as we are." As he looked up and raised his voice again so the AI could hear. "Mystic Beauty. Can you detect any of the others like us?"
"I can." The monitor replied. "They are not far. In fact, I'm detecting movement heading to a nearby surface access platform."
"Just one group?" McKay asked.
There was a pause, before the AI came back. "Just two."
**Holy Ring Surface
Halo, Instillation 02
Ninth Age of Reclamation**
Phobos flinched off a stray burst of human projectiles and fired his spike rifle into the midst of the human camp, cutting down several of the filthy infidels. The front line of Kig-yar did a poor job at protecting their superiors. The fragile reptiles hid behind their personal forcefields, standing in a line forming a low impenetrable wall behind which they hid along with their Unggoy underlings. Phobos snorted. They must have felt ridiculous cowering in the dirt while the Jiralhanae pack merely marched fearlessly down through the forest into the humans' midst.
In seconds Phobos and his pack were in close proximity, stepping over dead humans and Unggoy cannon fodder. Now was not the time for shooting and dodging for cover. Now was the time for glorious slaughter. Phobos grabbed the nearest human who tried to flee and rammed the two curved bayonets on his spike rifle into the infidel's belly. The male screamed as Phobos twisted the blades and pulled them out, spilling his blood and intestines across the forest's moss carpet.
Throwing the man away like a mere toy, the chieftain looked right to see his gold armored second in command swing his grenade rifle around, catching a human in the throat with the curved blade welded roughly to the hilt of the weapon. Gurgling the human fell, blood spurting across the field commander's gold armor. Laughing heartily the Jiralhanae ordered his fellows forward in a formation that exposed their chieftain for melee combat, but protected him from ranged attacks. One of the Jiralhanae's most cunning of battle plans. With the Unggoy and Kig-yar lagging fearfully in the rear, the Covenant column charged, breaking through the human ranks in a cacophony of snapping bones, tearing flesh and screams of agony as their enemy fell cowering before them.
Phobos drew his battle hammer loose and swung it in a series of elegant swirls with one hand, catching one human in the head, blasting his brains everywhere, then following through and breaking another human's legs in an elegant sweep. Bringing a foot down, the chieftain crushed the human's face under his boot and flattened a third infidel with a devastating blow from his hammer.
This was not a battle. This was combat practice. Before long the humans were scattered and gone. Among the Covenant pack were countless bodies, and fleeing through the forest were pathetic numbers. Phobos knew the humans weren't going to be stupid enough to mount an attack in their current state.
He charged up to a single leftover human and swung his battle hammer in two hands, catching the human in the chest. The human grunted as his chest caved in, crushing his innards and splattered as he slammed into a tree before flopping to the ground. Turning to his men, Phobos held up his hammer and howled triumphantly. The rest of the pack joined in.
"Brothers! The heretic is close! I can feel it!" he announced. "There is an access elevator there." He pointed into the forest. "Commander, remain here and guard this area in case the infidels double back to hit us from behind. You three." The chieftain pointed at his best known warriors. The very same who were often there when he violated Sangheili handmaidens. "With me. You will be permitted the honor of aiding me in the destruction of the breeder."
There were some disappointed grunts among the other Jiralhanae. They knew what the destruction of the breeder meant. It meant an agonizingly slow, torturous kill, pleasurable for the Jiralhanae alone. But at the same time they kept their mouths shut, so not to anger the chieftain whose adrenaline was already pumping.
He led his men forward half a kilometer until they reached a large circular platform. It was raised slightly above the forest floor and was scattered with pine-cones, moss and last autumn's leaves. At the edge of the circular pad was a holographic console. In his following of the teachings of the Gods, Phobos had become proficient in the use of Forerunner technology and language. He directed his men onto the platform and went to the console. In seconds he had its features figured out and pressed a button. There was a loud grinding noise as the clamps let go and the platform bobbed upward slightly, before smoothly falling into the ground. The dimly lit walls rushed upward around the Jiralhanae pack as they descended into Halo's bowels.
Gripping his hammer in one hand, Phobos felt his hands tremble in anticipation for the blood of the heretic... and perhaps, he would have some 'fun' on the side with her too...
// Sergeant Foster mission recording, 212th Battalion ODST 'Wolf Pack'
// Instillation designation Hula
// 2552
Elliot blinked, pumping the clip's last three rounds into the creature that stormed him. It screamed in pain as a large crater was blasted in its spongy chest, dropping it to its knees and causing it to flop forward dead. The sergeant immediately dropped the empty clip and slapped a fresh one in place, yanking the charging lever and leveling the weapon at the only door into this circular room. They had been lost for about an hour now, dogged by these beasts. They had found these creatures came in several forms. There were your humanoids, either human or brute-like. They packed punch and were pretty resilient, but hit that sack of crap in their chest and you drop them for good. Next were the carriers. When these guys popped they exploded with the force of a frag and scattered little squid monsters everywhere. Those were the last form they had come across. These little squishy guys swarmed everywhere. Elliot didn't know what their purpose was other than overwhelm someone, but he was glad they were easy cannon fodder. They were about as fragile as water balloons, and killing one started a chain reaction that often killed a while swarm, saving some ammo.
Elliot sat on one knee while Pearce worked behind him, scrolling through the commands on a holographic console by the edge of a large cylindrical pit disappearing into the ground and rising right up to the surface. They figured this room contained some kind of surface access elevator. But figuring out how to use the thing was a whole new story.
"Dude. Any time you feel like hurrying up!" Elliot said urgently, spotting some movement in the darkness ahead.
"I'm working on it." Pearce muttered. "Talk about impatient."
Elliot lowered his head behind the sights of his BR55 and tightened his finger on the trigger. "Patience is a commodity we don't have."
Gritting his teeth he let loose a burst. A second later the movement stopped. Everything remained silent for a while. And then, suddenly, a voice yelled on the far side of the hall before the gunnery sergeant.
"Lone wolf?!" the familiar voice shouted.
Elliot froze for a second, before replying. "Aooooah!" he howled. "That you, Jimmy?"
There was a longer pause before Elliot heard a few muttered curses and whispered delegation. "You nearly killed McKay, you fucking asshole!" Simmons yelled.
Elliot cursed under his breath, shaking his head and lowered his gun. "Sorry, bro!"
"No, you idiot!" Simmons replied. "Why did you miss? This was a perfectly opportune moment to get rid of him!"
Elliot stood as figures materialized in the darkness. Simmons was first to appear, followed by Corporal McKay. "Good to see you, sir. Friendly fucking aside." The corporal chuckled.
Elliot waved apologetically before turning to give Simmons a high-five. "Waddup, dude? You won't believe what we've just been through."
"Yeah, well you'd be surprised the kind of shit I'm able to deal with right now." Simmons looked over his shoulder and gave a familiar hand signal Elliot recognized as 'all clear'.
Two more figures appeared, jogging from where the lieutenant and the corporal had come from. One, a heavily armored Spartan, the other a cyan clad Covenant Elite.
"Holy." Elliot jolted at the sight of the alien, instinctively shouldering his weapon.
Simmons quickly grabbed the sergeant and held him steady. "Easy, Stray. This is MCPO Matthews and Zara 'Sofid. She's the Covenant defect."
Elliot held his weapon slack and moved past Simmons to the Spartan. He saw the armored human standing beside the alien tense himself as the sergeant moved closer. Curiously Elliot looked at the IFF confirmation hovering about the MCPO as he scanned Matthews from head to foot. After a long ten seconds, Elliot gave a semi-formal salute and chuckled.
"Master Chief Petty Officer, eh? Are you taking command... sir?" Elliot asked.
"Only if I have to, sergeant." The Spartan said lightly, returning the salute. "I assume you boys have an extraction plan?"
"Work in progress, sir!" Pearce called, stepping back from the console he was working on. A moment later there was a hum of energy followed by the sound of grinding clamps. "Elevator coming down!" the private cheered happily, turning towards the group. "Am I badass or what?"
Elliot couldn't help smile as well as he looked up, seeing a circular platform slide down in the centre of the room, slowing to a stop behind the private. His expression immediately changed as he saw four tall figures standing on the platform.
Three of the aliens in Elliot's immediate line of sight were clad in blue power armor covering their shaggy dark fur. Each of them carried spike rifles with frightening bayonets. They had their weapons leveled and fired before any of the humans could do anything.
White hot spikes sizzled through the air, thudding into the walls behind Elliot and hissing loudly past his head. Lowering his head, Elliot snapped up his rifle and fired past Pearce, moving bravely forward and forming a line with his fellow Helljumpers.
"Defensive line!" Simmons yelled, also firing his weapon to cover both Pearce who was lost in the exchange of fire.
The gunnery sergeant didn't even know what the Elite and Spartan were doing, but quite frankly didn't care for now. Their personal forcefields would provide protection. Protection which Elliot and his fellow ODST didn't have. Their only chance was to hit the Brutes first and drop them before casualties started mounting.
Pearce suddenly screamed as he scrambled for cover, three spikes slamming into his back and a forth forcing its way into his side as he fell. The Helljumper hit the deck and twitched a few times before laying still. Elliot stepped out of formation, his weapon barking and kicking, spitting bullets at his nearest target. The Brute he aimed for flinched, bullets sparking against his armor. Simmons swiveled to cover the sergeant as he lowered his gun and grabbed hold of Pearce's dead hand and dragged him out of the firefight. The same Brute staggered, his armor exploding in a burst of light, exposing his flesh to a hail of bullets. Dark red blood splattered the elevator's floor, followed quickly by the first Brute casualty. The beast fell screaming, firing into the air as he fell.
"Stray, get out of there!" McKay yelled, spotting movement on his left.
Only now did Elliot get a proper look at the fourth Brute. This hulking alien was clad in crimson and black, wearing an extravagantly runed helmet and carrying a massive stone hammer in both claws. The creature let out an angry roar and sprinted forward, hammer raised high ready to crush the sergeant.
Elliot dropped to the ground, rifle held high, finger tight on the trigger. He was about to fire when a blur of motion shot across his line of fire. A black clad soldier threw his full two ton weight into the chieftain, stumbling the heavy creature and pinning it against the floor of the elevator. Elliot looked up and saw the other two Brutes fall under a hail of bullets as McKay and Simmons charged. A hand suddenly grabbed Elliot by the arm and hefted him to his feet. Whirling around he saw it was the Elite, Zara.
Giving a small nod as if to say 'thanks' Elliot twisted around and fired at the hammer wielding Brute who slowly got to his feet, shoving Matthews who had managed to tackle him aside. The Spartan hit the deck and rolled to his feet, ready to charge again, but this time the Brute was ready. The alien swept his hammer around and clipped the Spartan in the shoulder, causing his force field to flare and sending the armored human spinning to the ground.
The shooting stopped. The Brute turned to the trio of ODST and roared out loud, his voice carrying throughout the honeycomb of tunnels around them and causing the Helljumpers to take a step back. Raising the hammer high, the beast readied to charge them... but suddenly the ground moved.
The Brute stumbled and fell to one knee, surprised. Exactly as Zara had planned when she activated the elevator. Elliot looked right and saw the Elite charge forward and jump on the Brutes back, one hand gripping his armored collar, the other raised high above her head. There was an explosion of light as an energy blade appeared in her free hand. The weapon came down in a deadly swish, and Elliot actually dared think it was over...
No such luck.
The Brute twisted around, landed an elbow in Zara's stomach and caught her blade hand. The Elite however still had the advantage and pinned the Brute back, struggling to ram her sword home in his throat. Elliot stepped forward with his two fellows and raised his rifle.
"Stop!" Zara barked at them. "Wait." She glared down at the Brute and snarled. "You betrayed me. Hunt me like a heretic. Kill my friends... why?" she demanded. "Why would the San 'Shyuum want me dead? I did nothing but serve them!"
The Brute laughed at the Elite, and Elliot almost 'accidentally' popped a round in his head. "You know perfectly well you did not serve him in the way he wanted." The Brute gave an ugly grin, his creased features distorting oddly. "You turned down the Minister of Will." He added in a whisper.
Zara's eyes widened and the Brute pushed harder, almost throwing the Elite off him.
"Madness." Zara whispered. "The Minister of Will is hunting me because of a personal vendetta? This is impossible! How do you know?"
"He told me." The Brute growled.
"And yet you still follow him?" Zara barked. "This betrayal is heresy!"
"Your kind... all of you are weak." The Brute said. "It was your kind who lost the first Halo. It was your kind who allowed one of the holy hierarchs to die. Now, you will perish along with the humans."
Zara growled. "No. We will not. The San 'Shyuum are stupid. They are inciting genocide on humanity for no rational reason. We are being manipulated to destroy people who have done nothing wrong. Their tales of enlightenment with the Holy Rings are false. We'll only find death here."
The Brute growled. "Shut up. You shamed me before the council because you would not die. When I deal with you I'll topple that fool, Will and lead my fleet to burn the rest of this human filth! My feet tread The Path of The Great Journey!"
Elliot gritted his teeth. "Not gonna happen, bro!"
Zara glanced up at the Helljumper who held his scoped rifle tight in two hands and gave a small nod. Elliot replied with a gentle squeeze of his index finger. A single bullet sprang from its casing, raced down the barrel and was propelled across the space between Elliot and the Brute. The single round hit the alien in the elbow, slicing through flesh, tendons and dislocating the joint, breaking the Brute's arm with a sickening snap.
The alien's scream died in his throat as Zara's hot blade scythed through the air and found its target. The stench of burning flesh and hair filled the air as the ODST lowered their weapons. Matthews climbed to his feet and flexed his arm, walking towards the Elite and helping her to her feet. She stood a little unevenly, then turned towards the Brute's corpse and let out a long satisfied battle cry. If she wasn't so elegant, Elliot would have been seriously intimidated.
Disabling her energy sword, she turned to Matthews and gave what must have been a smile, as the Spartan laid a tender hand on her shoulder and held her close. Elliot watched them hug for a moment as Simmons and McKay caught their breath while the elevator continued its ascent to the surface.
The gunnery sergeant slowly walked towards the Brute's body and knelt beside it, still looking up at the Spartan and the Elite who held each other lovingly. He cocked his head slightly as he figured out what was going on. He wasn't very good when it came to reading emotions or non-hostile intentions, but he wasn't blind. It was easy to see what was going on between these two.
Letting out a long sigh, Elliot stood up and walked back to McKay and Simmons as the elevator reached the top of the shaft. He dared think it was over as he looked around. They were in the midst of a forest. Pine trees evenly spaced, a few rocks, ferns, thorny bushes and a mossy carpet covering the ground. In the thin mist it was almost peaceful... but that peace only lasted a second.
Something exploded. Elliot's vision blurred and went blank. All he heard for a long while was a loud ringing. The world span around him. He didn't feel a thing. Then, slowly his vision focused. When he could finally see the world was on its side. He was laying on one side looking at McKay's boots as he stood behind a tree firing into the forest. His fire was replied by bolts of plasma and white hot spikes that thudded into his bark cover. The corporal ducked and yelled something over his shoulder. Elliot managed to move his head in silence and saw Simmons dive to the ground as a few spiked projectiles sizzled over his head. Gritting his teeth and fighting the pain in his limbs, Elliot rolled onto his front and pushed his hands into the dirt, slowly getting to his feet. Looking up he saw projectiles light up the forest. Crying out, but hardly hearing his own voice, Elliot steadied his rifle and fired a few bursts at blurry movement among the trees not far away. The short squat figures of Covenant Grunts wasn't hard to mistake. But they weren't really his primary concern. The spike projectiles being fired at them meant there were nearby Brutes. They would be the tough ones.
The ground beside Elliot exploded in a cloud of scorched mud as a Brute grenade rifle barked over the noise of gunfire. Two spike grenades soared through the air and exploded wide of the battle field, obliterating bark and undergrowth.
"Stray! Fall back!" a feint voice shouted on the far end of a tunnel, echoing in his head. "That one has a Brute Shot!"
Looking over his shoulder he saw it was Simmons, using hand signals to direct McKay as the corporal moved to new cover behind a fallen tree. The sergeant got to his feet, whirled around and ran past the lieutenant, seeking out a new hiding place. Then he saw Matthews and Zara not far away, taking cover behind a fallen tree. Both didn't have any kind of ranged weaponry and were vulnerable to anything trying to charge them. Yet they stayed put, holding each other tightly in their arms, their heads resting against each other.
Elliot turned sharply and dove into cover beside them. Projectiles hissed past as he straightened up and looked over the thick log. Simmons and McKay were both hiding behind a rock just ahead, firing controlled carefully placed bursts past their cover to suppress the enemy as best they could. Simmons suddenly cried out and fell back as a bolt of light hit him in the torso.
"Jimmy!" Elliot shouted, laying down some covering fire as the lieutenant scrambled to his feet. "You okay, bro?"
Either the lieutenant didn't hear him, or he was just fine, Simmons threw himself against the rock and continued to provide suppressive fire against the swarming aliens. Elliot almost jumped from his position to run to his friend's side, but resisted the urge as he remembered he had to protect Matthews and Zara at all costs. Simmons seemed fine though as he shifted for a better position and continued to fire at the Covenant.
A new set of voices caught Elliot's attention. Looking to his right flank he saw a column of green clad humans closing in, heads low and weapons aimed at the Covenant position. A few let off a couple of bursts. One of them fell screaming as a stray plasma bolt caught him in the face. The others waded unhindered through the enemy fire, seeking cover and hitting the deck nearby. A young woman crouched beside Elliot and gave a quick salute.
"Sir! Petty Officer Juliet Michaels, chalk seven-delta!" she shouted over the gunfire and whine of plasma weapons. "Our drop ship charlie-nine-eight is circling, ready to provide air support." She wasn't much older than Elliot, but was equally war torn. Her corpsman uniform was covered in grime and her otherwise pale face was smudged with blood and soot.
Elliot did a quick head count. He counted five marines including the navy medic. "Where's the rest of your chalk?" he asked.
"Brutes with a chieftain jumped us, sir!" Michaels explained. "These bastards came out of nowhere and attacked Whisper! I'm not sure about the status in orbit, but I think we're the last humans left on this fucking hula-hoop!"
Elliot raised his rifle over the fallen tree, sighted a golden Brute field commander and fired a burst square into his face. The alien flinched off the shot that sparked off his helmet and ducked into cover. The sergeant cursed, ducking back down as a plasma bolt splashed across the tree, burning the bark.
"These assholes just won't die." He muttered, looking at Matthews. "Sir! Get on to Charlie-nine-eight and call in air support!" It felt odd giving a superior officer an order. But it had a satisfying twinge to it.
The Spartan nodded, cradling Zara under one arm. Elliot figured he was trying to protect her as best he could... as if she needed protection.
Clicking his radio, Matthews spoke into his helmet mic. "Charlie-nine-eight this is groundside UNSC unit. Do you read?"
There was a short burst of static followed by the calm voice of a Pelican pilot. "Roger that. This is Warlock, providing air support. Where do you want the rain?"
"Charlie Foxtrots, giving us hell from the trees marked by my laser." Matthews shouted, raising his head and pointing the helmet mounted IR beam into the midst of the Covenant position. "Do you see the IR?"
There was a short pause, and for a moment Matthews feared Warlock didn't see the laser. If that was the case he would have to run into the enemy fire and place a strobe in the enemy position. A task he wasn't too eager to perform since he'd have to leave Zara's side.
"Roger, ground unit. I see the IR." The pilot said coolly. "Keep your heads down. Warlock is bringing the fire!"
"Gunney!" Matthews shouted. "Incoming air..." he didn't get to finish as the sound of rotary chain guns spitting hot lead into the forest roared above their heads.
Brass shells rained down on the humans as deadly tracer rounds scythed into the Covenant position, cutting down trees, punching holes in Brutes and Grunts and wiping out most of the fighting force in one strafing run. One burst to break enemy ranks was all the marines needed. Now Warlock was just going overkill, sweeping left and right to try and wipe out every moving hostile down there.
"Warlock!" Elliot shouted, standing and shouldering his rifle. "Disengage! Friendlies moving forward!"
"Copy. Warlock breaking off and standing by for pickup." The pilot said. There was a whoosh as the Pelican gained altitude and a hiss of static as the radio went dead.
"Forward! Secure me a pickup zone!" Elliot yelled at the marines. They didn't hesitate to scramble to their feet and charge the Covenant entrenchment, guns blazing, cutting down staggered Brutes and fleeing Grunts in their wake. This was their chance for a bit of payback.
Elliot jumped the log, signaling Matthews to stay put and sprinted with his head down to Simmons' position. The lieutenant sat slumped against the rock, his rifle forgotten in the dirt beside him as McKay plugged the hole the charged plasma bolt had punched in his chest. Armor plates and fabric had melted away, allowing the plasma to burn right into his chest, charring the skin and letting poisonous plasma leak into his blood stream. The lieutenant choked as the plasma burned into his right lung, causing it to collapse.
The sergeant immediately looked back and cried out. "MEDIC!!!" he shouted, a little louder than he intended to.
PO Michaels hopped over the fallen tree and sprinted towards them, dropping her pack and retrieving a wad of mesh. She plugged Simmons' wound and instructed McKay to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. She then produced a needle and jabbed between the ell-tee's ribs. She twisted the valve and relieved the pressure crushing Simmons' lung. But the collapse was the least of his problems. His lung had been punctured, and unless he went into immediate surgery he'd drown on his own fluids.
While Michaels carefully moved some of the mesh and retrieved a can of bio-foam to try and block some of the punctures, Elliot took Simmons' hand and squeezed.
"You good, bro?" Elliot asked as Simmons chocked. "Easy, man. Slow breaths."
The lieutenant took a ragged breath, wincing as Michaels pushed some burnt flesh aside to get a better look at the internal wounds. "Guh... Elliot..." he muttered. "Elliot... take... take care... of... hakgh!" he couched, splattering blood against the inside of his faceplate. "Take care... of..."
Elliot patted the lieutenant on the helmet, feeling a lump form in his throat as he saw the wounds. Michaels looked up and shook her head, dropping the empty can of bio-foam. He recognized the look in her eyes. That same look he'd gotten whenever he was standing over an unknown soldier dying in a medic's hands. McKay kept pressure on the wound and kept his eyes on Simmons, sniveling slightly.
"Save..." Elliot stopped and cleared his throat, squeezing the ell-tee's hand. "Save your breath, dude. You can tell me when we get you to a med-bay. Can you imagine them navy nurses already?" he forced a grin and heard Simmons chuckle painfully.
He twitched and looked up at the gunnery sergeant. "Look after Linda and Sarah for me..." he forced out before coughing and going into a violent spasm.
"Shit! Ell-tee!" McKay shouted. "Stay with us, man!" he looked up at the medic. "Call for med-evac! We're losing him!"
She looked away and sighed. Elliot shook his head.
"Bro..." he sniffed as Simmons let his head fall back. "You still owe me forty bucks."
Simmons smiled with blood splattered lips, shutting his eyes and sighing against his faceplate. "The Lakers fucking lost..." he coughed lightly this time. "Idiot." He sighed and convulsed, his muscles stiffening before going slack. "Send... me out... with... a bang..." his head lolled onto his shoulder and he let out his last breath.
His hand slipped from Elliot's grip, and McKay slowly let go of the blood soaked mesh. With trembling hands, McKay sat back, staring at the dead lieutenant. They were the last of their chalk. Two out of a pack of twelve.
"Oh, God." McKay muttered. "Sir?" he looked up at the gunnery sergeant.
Elliot slowly ran a hand over his face plate and turned to McKay. "Police his weapons and ammo." He forced out with a steady voice, retrieving Simmons' rifle and spare clips, stringing the weapon across his back.
"We're just going to leave him here?" McKay snapped, his voice breaking. He hadn't let out his anger about Pearce or Wolsey. Mainly because this was personal. They had been closer to Simmons than the others.
"Not a chance." Elliot said waving to Matthews and Zara. "Call Warlock for pickup. Get the marines on board. We'll follow in a few seconds." he buried his sadness, before reaching into one of his pockets and retrieving an incendiary grenade.
**Jiralhanae Battle Cruiser, Coagulated Spirit
Orbiting Holy Ring, Halo, Instillation 02
Ninth Age of Reclamation** The deck shook, causing Captain Uh'we to stumble and catch himself on a console. He barked angrily over one shoulder at the weapons station and straightened up. "Blast their mongrel hides again!"
His underling did his best, but his best just wasn't good enough. The human ship giving the Jiralhanae ship grief blocked their sensors and masked its movements, dodging around them like an stinging insect striking at only an opportune moment. The point lasers had managed to disable the human ship's long range communications. But their plasma guns were having no luck tracking the damned cowards. They dipped and dodged in and out of sensors, only appearing when they fired their explosives at the Coagulated Spirit's shields.
Uh'we wasn't actually worried about the human ship. It was the ground mission he was worried about. However much inefficient the humans were in space, their combat tactics and overall military personnel were a force to be reckoned with when they had dirt under their boots. And then there was the Flood to worry about.
Feeling the shock of high explosives rippling across the cruiser's shields, Uh'we engaged the radio hand heard Field Commander Segil's voice crackle over the sound of gunfire.
"Commander!" Uh'we barked. "What is the situation on the ground?"
There was a long pause of static, followed by Segil's voice. "Sir... the chieftain..."
"What is it?" the captain asked with a menacing growl, gripping his command console tightly.
"He... the chieftain is dead, sir." The commander said. "We sighted the heretic, but she is escaping on a single human drop ship. We are policing ammo and weapons."
Uh'we almost broke his console in his claws. The chieftain was dead. They were being humiliated by this human ship and the heretic was now escaping their grasp. Their position was getting desperate. "Commander. Come back to the ship. I'm calling for reinforcements."
The commander didn't reply. The captain merely heard him barking orders to the others under his command... until there was a sudden loud crash, followed by the hiss of static.
"Commander?" Uh'we asked into the mic. "Commander!" he suddenly barked angrily, before pounding a dent into his command console. Shivering with anger, the captain slowly turned his head to his chief of security. "Brother. What is the status of the crew? What of the Minister?"
"Will is in the shrine, sir." The black haired Jiralhanae in blue armor growled. "Under watch of the Honor Guard." The security officer checked his radio, nodded and looked up again. "We are getting reports of mutiny all across the craft. Unggoy and Kig-yar attempting to abandon ship. I am being told several handmaidens and Huragok have been killed in the crossfire. The Minister Will demands all cowardice be dealt with swiftly... and he demands the service crew be eliminated."
"Blasted waste..." the captain snarled. "Why should we eliminate the service crew? Have it taken care of none the less... but try to keep some of the handmaidens alive. It will be a long journey home."
A grin formed on the Jiralhanae's lips. "Gladly, captain." He answered before speaking into his radio. "I'll place some of the men at the escape pods. They'd likely be headed that way."
"You have the bridge, brother." Uh'we said, turning to leave the bridge. His brother nodded, taking the position at the command console. "I must have a word with our dear Minister about his... obscure orders." He added, venom in his voice.
Meanwhile, halfway across the ship, nearer to the stern where the handmaidens quarters were located, a cry for help echoed through the empty halls. While every loyal crewmember was at their station, travel between areas was pretty much non-existent. Nesa was pretty much alone with this rabid beast.
The Jiralhanae was roughly as big as the chieftain, with dark grey fur. He had a bald patch on the top of his head, and was considered among his kind one of the more 'handsome' warriors. Either way, Nesa was equally repulsed by this monster as she was with all Jiralhanae.
The Jiralhanae grabbed Nesa's tunic as she scrambled away, practically tearing the garment off her body and sinking three talons into her flesh. Three long gashes formed in the skin on her side, spilling her dark blue blood which stained the remnants of her tunic. Stumbling and gasping in pain, the Sangheili handmaiden fell clumsily forward and landed face first against the deck, her rear still held high in the air.
Laughing at the Sangheili's pathetic situation as she tried to get up, the Jiralhanae reached out and grabbed hold of her buttocks with one hand while removing the armor on his crotch with the other. The Jiralhanae knew this may be the last moments he was a live in case the human ship managed to blast them into lifeless debris, so he might as well go out with a smile.
Nesa dug her fingers into the deck plates, scrambling to get away, but the brutish creature held her firmly in place as she heard his armor land heavily on the ground behind her. Tears in her eyes, Nesa looked back and caught a glimpse of the Jiralhanae's erection.
For years of enduring rape from these beasts, she had felt nothing but cold despair in the core of her soul. But now, in the last few hours she had actually felt warmth. The premonition she had while meditating with Xono had filled her with joy that she would have only gotten if she had been with a loving partner. If she had a mate she would have felt like she belonged, like she did before this Jiralhanae pounced her while she made her way to her own emergency station. She didn't want to lose that feeling, but as the Jiralhanae aimed, ready to thrust roughly into her, she feared it would be a feeling she would never have again...
Until...
There was a rumbling roar of pure fury, followed by the rapid gunfire of heavy footsteps Nesa recognized instantly. The sound was unmistakable. It was the sound of a charging Lekgolo.
One minute he stood there, ready to thrust in the tight moist folds of the Sangheili girl, the next the Jiralhanae was splattered between the wall on his right and a cold Lekgolo shield. Xono let out an angry rumble, pulling back the shield, twisting it and scything it like a blade, slicing the dying Jiralhanae in half just above the waist.
Nesa flopped sideways onto the ground and looked up, propping herself up on one hand. She gazed at Xono as it let out what sounded like a sigh before standing over Nesa. "Nesa... are you unharmed?"
The Sangheili nodded slowly and gave a sparkling smile considered to be beautiful among her kind. She only hoped the Lekgolo understood. "Yes. Thank you."
"Do not mention it." The Lekgolo nodded slowly. "It is our duty to protect our sister." The eel colony held out the blood splattered shield and helped Nesa to her feet. "Come. You must take us to the other civilian personnel. We fear they may be in similar danger you just faced."
Nesa nodded and quickly led the way through the ship, dazzled, but glad. She was glad she was able to keep the warm feelings inside her. She was glad she had a guardian now. But above all, she was glad to be in the presence of someone who cared.
// Sergeant Foster mission recording, 212th Battalion ODST 'Wolf Pack'
// Pelican Charlie-Nine-Eight 'Warlock'
// 2552
Elliot watched from the open rear of the troop bay as a crimson fireball curled up above the canopy. Simmons' funeral pyre. Elliot couldn't help let out a small smile as he looked down at the ell-tee's dog tags that hung in his gloved hand. This was most likely the way the lieutenant would have wanted to leave this world. Dragging a few of those Covenant fuck-heads kicking and screaming down to hell with him.
The rear hatch of the troop bay slowly slid shut and sealed, providing a pressurized environment for the people inside as they reached Hula's upper atmosphere. Elliot safely stowed the tags in a pouch on his belt, hung his rifle on his back and removed his helmet for the first time in seven hours. They had started a whole new day... it was Sunday.
Elliot sighed, wondering if he should ask if anyone wanted to go to church. He decided not to as he paced along the centre of the 'Blood-Tray' and stopped at the doorway between the troop bay and the cockpit where Warrant Petty Officer Luther took the controls of this bird. He didn't have a co-pilot, and McKay had taken the seat behind the pilot. Matthews and Zara sat beside each other, close as usual, staring at the gunnery sergeant as he gazed out into space. Millions of tiny dots formed on an inky black canvas as they left Hula's atmosphere and floated free into the infinite vacuum beyond.
Elliot felt his own weight diminish into nothing as he slowly rose from the deck. Grabbing the bulkhead for support, he gently whirled around and latched his hand onto the steel cable running along the ceiling of the Pelican's troop bay. He watched the marines secure themselves. There were five of them. Five out of a chalk of fifteen. They looked like they had been through hell. Their fatigues were torn, their armor burned, their faces smudged with dirt, their own blood and the blood of their enemy.
"Oh, shit. Stray!" McKay called.
Elliot whirled around and felt his eyes widen at the sight of plasma bombs exploding around Whisper's position. Blue flares burst in the space only a few kilometers from the ship's hull. Turning his head right he saw a teardrop shaped Covenant ship, her plasma guns lighting up seconds before each explosion dangerously close to the Whisper.
Elliot gritted his teeth as several options popped into his head. And then his eyes fell to the deck as he realized which option was the only viable one.
Matthews drifted over and hovered beside the sergeant, watching the scene unfold. "It looks like our ride is being cornered." He glanced at the Covenant ship, then looked over his shoulder, right at Zara. She stared back into his face plate, then slowly nodded. Matthews looked away for a second, then looked back and nodded too, before turning back to the sergeant. "You know what we should do."
McKay turned in his seat and watched the sergeant think. After a while Elliot looked up and nodded. "Yeah, I do." Whirling around, Elliot drifted closer to the marines and halted with one hand on the overhead support beams. "Ladies and gentlemen. We're about to board and disable a Covenant vessel!"
"What?" a private blurted out. "No due respect, sir, but that's crazy! What are you? High?"
"You of all people should want this, marine! A chance to get back at the enemy!" Elliot snapped. "We've all been taking some horse-shit lately. Dropped on an alien artifact, dogged, ambushed and fucked over by those Covvie bastards. But I'll tell you what, boys and girls. This shit ends here! It's our turn now. Our turn to take the fight to those Charlie Foxtrots!"
A couple of marines lightened up, seeing Elliot's point. Others readied their weapons for the battle to come. Petty Officer Michaels grinned at the sergeant, her M7 submachine gun held tightly in one hand as she stood up with a few of the other marines.
"Lets show those Covenant what humans are made of!" Elliot continued. "We are marines! We can take it! And we can dish it out! Now who's with me?"
"Ooh-rah!" the marines yelled, pumping their fists upward.
"Now that's what I like to hear!" Elliot said proudly, pulling his rifle to his front and holding it high. "The Whisper is taking fire from a single Covenant ship. We'll board a fighter bay, wade our way to engineering, plant some timed explosive and run the fuck away. People will write history books about this. Lets make sure we get our own fucking chapter." He turned and went back to Matthews as the marines readied for combat.
"Nice speech, gunney." Matthews said impressed. "You didn't say 'bro' or 'dude' at all."
"Bite me..." Elliot smirked sideways at the Master Chief, holding out Simmons' assault rifle. "Bro..."
**Jiralhanae Battle Cruiser, Coagulated Spirit
Orbiting Holy Ring, Halo, Instillation 02
Ninth Age of Reclamation** The Seraph fighter bay was surprisingly cluttered. Seraph jets had been shaken off their clamps and were scattered across the open floor. Ammo crates were strewn open with Needlers and Plasma Pistols scattered everywhere. Two of the Seraph's had exploded on a pile of fusion coils and lay strewn open like a rotting carcass, spitting blue flames and sparking wildly.
Supporting a wounded Sangheili handmaiden, Nesa led three other young female Sangheili into the bay. She was hoping they could find an abandoned drop ship here, load up as many as they could find and abandon ship, since the Jiralhanae were protecting the escape pods furiously. Their 'never run away' bravado would be the death of them. And Nesa wasn't going to let any more harm come to her or hers because of the Jiralhanae ever again. Naturally, this would be regarded as heresy by the hierarchs, but Nesa didn't care. If doing the right thing meant damnation, then so be it.
The Sangheili she supported had taken a shot from a spike rifle to the leg. The white hot spike had penetrated her thigh and poked out the back of her leg. She cried and whimpered, her blood running down her leg and dripping onto the deck, but at least she kept moving.
The Coagulated Spirit suddenly shook and rocked violently, and Nesa heard a distant explosion. Something told her the humans had battered the shields and were now assaulting the hull. Oddly enough, the barrage of human fire seemed to thin out. Maybe they were out of ammo. Nesa hoped so. Maybe it would prevent them from shooting at her if she found a way off this wretched Jiralhanae ship.
Looking around, Nesa felt a heavy load of despair weigh her down. There were no Phantoms, no Spirit drop ships, and all the Seraphs were unworthy of flight. With a sigh, Nesa hung her head, until a maiden behind her suddenly cried out, pointing out the bay into space.
"By the Gods, look!" she called, pointing ahead.
Nesa quickly looked up and saw something rocket towards them. It was small at first, hardly visible in the darkness. Then she made out the flaring engines, bulky design. It was human. A human drop ship! But what was it doing? Just one drop ship assaulting a Covenant cruiser. Was this a suicide run?
The human craft slowed rapidly, pivoted around and passed through the force field separating the Seraph bay from the deadly vacuum outside. The craft entered backwards, lowered a trio of stands from its hull and slowly set down in front of the group of Sangheili. Nesa nervously stepped back under a outward wave of hot air coming from the craft, watching steam hiss from a few joints in the vehicle. It's engines pivoted and smoked for a while, before a hatch smoothly slid away and folded outwards, forming a ramp down to the deck in front of the Sangheili.
Nesa's eyes widened as a group of humans, followed by a Sangheili Ranger ran down the ramp and swept the area with their rifles. The Sangheili Ranger, a junior commander at the looks of her immediately ran over to them and placed a fist over her heart in salute. Nesa was too dazzled to return the salute. A million questions sprang up in her head, and she already knew she couldn't get answers to any of them.
"What is your name?" the Ranger asked.
"N-N-Nesa, milady." The handmaiden stammered. "Nesa 'Tucol."
"Nesa." The Ranger repeated. "Quickly. Take them into the human ship. We'll take you with us when we leave."
"Lady, are you kidding me?" a young black clad soldier barked over his weapon at the Ranger. "We're taking passengers?"
The other black clad soldier beside the first shook his head and moved towards the nearest handmaiden. "Lighten up, bro." he said. "They'll wait on the Pelican. C'mon, girl. Move. Go, we haven't got all day." He grabbed the nearest handmaiden's arm and pushed her towards the drop ship, coaxing the others along too.
Nesa passed the human directing them and stared for a second. He had a narrow jaw line, dark hazel eyes and short black hair. He was surprisingly handsome... for a human. But there was something else about him Nesa couldn't get over as she passed him in slow motion. Some kind of odd familiarity. She suddenly ignored her gut feeling for now as he guided her up the ramp and helped relieve her of the wounded handmaiden. Setting her in one of the uncomfortable seats in the drop ship, he crouched by her leg and cringed at the sight of the wound.
"Medic!" he called as he stood.
A female human ran over, dumped the pack on her back and immediately tended to the injury, softly and kindly reassuring the Sangheili girl she was going to be fine.
The human who helped Nesa up the ramp called over the human who voiced his dismay to taking passengers. "McKay! Hold the Pelican at all costs!"
"Hoo-ah!" the other human barked in reply. He took position at the top of the ramp and faced outward as the others, including the Ranger moved across the bay into the depths of the Jiralhanae cruiser.
Nesa wasn't going to play dumb. She knew exactly what they were doing here. They were an elite strike force. She knew as much by the way they did things. The way they moved. They were here for one purpose. Destroy the Coagulated Spirit and end this fight once and for all.
// Sergeant Foster mission recording, 212th Battalion ODST 'Wolf Pack'
// Covenant battle cruiser
// 2552
Elliot had enough to worry about without thinking about escorting a bunch of scantily clad, beaten down looking Elites around the place. Dumping them on the Pelican seemed like the best course of action. Why settle for one Covenant defect when they could have several? Besides, he wasn't in the mood to argue with Zara right now. There were pressing matters, like half a damned Brute battalion standing right between them and engineering.
Elliot ducked back as plasma splashed the bulkhead. Brutes held a position several meters away and showered them with spikes and plasma. Luckily there were not Brute Shots to be seen. Grenades in these tight quarters would be bad.
"Uh..." Elliot glanced around and signaled to Matthews taking cover with Zara and two other marines on the far end of the corridor. "This isn't going well."
Matthews aimed his assault rifle around the corner and emptied the clip into a single Brute, causing it to stagger but not quite fall. "Tell me about it. We need to flank these bastards!"
The Brutes held the engineering bay, and were dug in. There were twenty meters between their positions, too far to throw a grenade, and too far to sprint at them to storm the aliens. Anyone running down that hall would be instantly gunned down.
"I'll find a way around!" Elliot called. "I'll radio in if I find something."
Matthews nodded. "Be careful sergeant!" he added as Elliot got to his feet, patted Michaels on the helmet and left the marines behind him.
He ran perpendicular to the hall they wanted to take over, then turned sharp right, parallel to it. He followed this smooth hallway for a while, winding through the ship for about thirty meters, hoping to find some kind of service access or vent that would bring him in behind the Brute position. A grenade would root them out, and some good old Spartan firepower would eliminate them for good. Finding the damn access was a different story. Halls branched and twisted off every which way. In seconds Elliot was lost. Thank God for artificial gravity or he'd be lost in several more dimensions.
Eventually the sergeant came to an extremely wide door, similar to that he saw on the engineering deck before it opened to reveal a Brute battalion. The doors were split down the middle by a shallow groove. There were glass ornaments in the central panels and silver glyphs ornamenting the bulkhead frame. Elliot stepped closer and held out a hand. Sensing his presence, the massive doors ground into action, screeching loudly and parting down the middle, each panel sliding away in an opposite direction.
In seconds the next room was revealed... in all it's messy glory. What lay beyond the ornamented doors could only be described as carnage. Grunts and Jackal bodies were strewn everywhere, as were Brute corpses, crushed and broken, some still smoking as their fur smoldered filling the air with a rotten stench. Putting a gloved hand against his nose so he wouldn't throw up, he stepped over several dead aliens to lay eye on a few Elites too. Like the others in the Seraph bay, these looked like females dressed in tunics. They were servants, unarmed, but none the less slaughtered like cattle.
Elliot froze as one by his feet moved. Her eyes stared frightened up at him as she panted, one hand gripping the spike projectile in her chest tightly. Blood trickled from between her mandibles and soaked the torn garment that was still draped over her delicate body. Elliot slowly knelt beside her, resting his rifle in his lap. She still stared with fear in her eye, afraid of what might come. Elliot didn't know what she expected of him. Finish her off, try to help? Elliot would be a fool to even try to help. He wasn't a doctor, but he knew well enough she'd be dead in a matter of seconds. And for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to putting her out of her misery. Instead he reached out and took her free hand and squeezed reassuringly.
The Elite stared, the fear disappearing from her eyes. She gazed into her face, and suddenly she let out her last gasp, her eyes widening for a second, before her eyelids drooped and her head fell back. Every muscle in her body went limp and her hand slipped from Elliot's grip as Simmons' had not long ago.
Elliot felt something boil up in his gut. It wasn't an emotion he recognized immediately. He hadn't been sad in so long he didn't even recognize it as it crept up on him.
A sudden rumble caught his ear. Jumping to his feet, Elliot shouldered his rifle and swept the room. That's when he saw it. He didn't notice the creature as he entered because it sat so still in the corner. He cursed himself for being so damn sloppy as the Hunter slowly stomped closer.
Elliot knew he was as good as dead. The Hunter would shrug off his bullets and kill the marine in one devastating charge... but nothing happened. The Hunter had Elliot at a disadvantage, but something odd happened. The armor clad worm-bag chose to speak, rather than attack.
The only speech Elliot had heard from Hunters before this moment had been war cries and angry sobs. Never articulate words. The speech was more or less felt as well as heard as the eels inside the armor vibrated in harmonic unison.
"Do not shoot, but listen." The creature commanded. Elliot lowered his rifle slightly, more surprised than scared now. "Let us lead you to our enemy." The Hunter shifted its shield stained with Brute blood towards the next door at the end of the room, similar to the last door only somewhat smaller.
"Our enemy?" Elliot asked, his voice small and pathetic compared to that of the Hunter.
"Yes. The one who ordered for this." The Hunter indicated the dead handmaiden Elliot had knelt over a second ago. "These were servants, not soldiers. They were innocent and defenseless. By the will of corrupt mortals they suffered abuse no being should undergo, and our enemy, the Minister of Will would slaughter them to keep secret his corruption and cruelty. He deserves no less than a painful death."
Elliot wasn't going to pretend to understand. He lowered his weapon and nodded. Having a Hunter on his side would have its perks. First deal with this Minister jerk, then get this blue-meanie to help him take the engineering bay.
"Lead the way, bro." Elliot indicated the doorway with a light nod of the head.
The Hunter rumbled forward, approaching the door which parted to allow him access into the next room. Elliot stood to the side, readying his weapon. He was on his last clip. Six shots left. That was two bursts. But with a Hunter backing him up, that would probably be more than enough... or maybe not.
There was an explosion and the Hunter rocked back, orange goo spraying up into the air. The mighty creature stumbled back as a thick pillar of yellow light burst through the door ahead of it and burned square into the armored chest. Air wavered and the Geiger counter in Elliot's armor clicked furiously, causing the marine to instinctively dive away. The clicking died down as the pillar of light faded away, and the Hunter fell to its knees, before slumping down with a clang of metal on metal. Rolling on his back, Elliot looked at the smoking remains of the mighty creature. He had honestly not seen that coming.
"Aw, shit. There goes plan A." the sergeant muttered getting to his feet.
Then he heard footsteps. Though the thick piles of black smoke and steam a figure materialized. It stood taller than an average human, wider in the torso, but sinewy at the limbs. It had a long neck, largish head and moved like a crooked old man. The alien was draped in fancy garments and had wiry hair on its neck and chin. Elliot had never actually seen one in real life before, but he had no doubt this was one of the fabled Covenant Prophets. A religious leader the Hunter had referred to as the Minister of Will.
"Die, you ugly bastard." Elliot let out angrily, shouldering his rifle and letting loose both bursts.
His words of contempt died in his throat however as the bullets bounced off an invisible barrier between him and the Prophet.
"Pathetic human!" the Prophet scolded in English, slowly hobbling closer and reaching back. There was a long sliding noise of metal on metal as the alien drew a long ceremonial dagger, no doubt used for killing sacrifices. The edges didn't look very sharp, but it was definitely pointy. "My feet tread the path. The Gods favor me today. I am the will of the Covenant! I am eternal!"
The Prophet charged with surprising speed, but wasn't fast enough for Elliot. The alien stabbed for the head, but the human ducked under the blow. Twisting around, Elliot grabbed the Prophet's wrist and lashed out with his other hand, landing a blow on the back of the alien's elbow. There was a sickening pop as the cartilage cracked and the Prophet's arm broke with no effort whatsoever.
The alien screamed out loud as Elliot took over the ceremonial dagger and flipped it into reverse grip, holding the blade high above Will's defiant eyes.
"You," the Prophet said with a surprisingly smooth voice that held volume and bass. "All of you are vermin. Fighting your fight... for what? The hope you may survive the coming fire? No!" Will laughed venomously. "Your world will burn until its surface is but glass. And none of you vile insects will survive to crawl blackened from your holes to mar the reflection of our passage! Your destruction is the will of the Gods! And I am their messenger!"
"Here's a message to your so called Gods." Elliot snarled slowly down at the Prophet, tightening his grip on the dagger. "Fuck-off."
In a glint of gold and silver the blade scythed down and met flesh. The Prophet cried out, then gurgled on his own fluids before slumping to the deck, his own dagger sticking out of his long neck. Panting, Elliot stepped back, staring at the dead minister. The death of a religious leader wouldn't go over well to the Covenant loyalists. He hoped he had not just made a martyr.
Pushing the worries to the back of his head, Elliot turned and tried his best to plan his route back to the others. They would still need a hand blowing this ship to hell. Everything else he'd deal with when he faced it... and just as he thought that, he wished he hadn't. Because now he was facing a Brute between him and the exit, and would have to no doubt deal with it.
This Brute was clad in crimson armor and had beige tufts of frizzy fur sticking out of the joints, making the alien look quite ridiculous. The creature clutched his side where Elliot spotted a severe plasma burn and he identified a white hot spike sticking out of his left bicep. Possibly friendly fire, or one of the crew being slaughtered had decided to fight back.
"Oh, great. You wanna go?" Elliot placed his boots against the deck and readied to throw himself headlong into a speeding freight train.
The Brute tore off the armor on his torso, drew a long breath, then pivoted forward slightly, roaring out at the top of its lungs, strings of spit spraying from the dagger like teeth. His fur stood up straight and his bushy mane fluffed up into fuzzy spikes. Elliot faltered, but only slightly. Recovering from the shock, the sergeant drew his own breath and imitated the war cry... which sounded somewhat less threatening coming from him than when the Brute did it.
"C'mon you oversized hamster! Lets fucking go!" Elliot added, raising his fists ready to defend himself.
All Elliot had was his knife and sidearm. He could use his rifle as a club however, and maybe land a few shots with the pistol in close range to weaken his foe. Anything to give him an edge. He wouldn't be able to block the Brute's direct attacks. This creature could crush the human in one crippling blow. He'd have to keep moving, roll with punches and flow around the Brute's attacks... which was of course easier said than done.
The Brute moved with surprising speed for a creature that size. Charging forward, the alien threw out one claw as Elliot sidestepped, leaning sideways under the creature's lunge. The Brute adjusted and slashed three razor sharp claws across the front of Elliot's armor. Sparks erupted from the chest plate as Elliot stumbled back and swung his arms around to regain balance. The Brute meanwhile swung around and aimed an elbow for the head. Elliot rolled with it, protecting his face with both arms and feeling a sharp sting of pain as he caught the Brute's blow with his forearms. The protective plates cracked and Elliot gasped, feeling his bones shudder and bruise.
The sergeant didn't bother trying to throw his opponent off balance. It was an impossible task. Instead he took every pot shot he could sneak in. ducking under the Brute's arm, Elliot landed a fist in the alien's stomach, then swung his other arm around and landed an open hand in the chest. It was like punching a two ton sack of meat. Twisting around, Elliot landed a bone shuddering roundhouse kick in the Brute's ribs... too bad it shuddered Elliot's bones, not the Brutes.
Letting out a hearty laugh, the alien caught the human's leg and lifted the sergeant clean off the ground. Swinging Elliot around with one arm, the Brute threw the sergeant across the room. Crying out, the human hit the ground, bounced and hit a wall, freezing there for a second before flopping down to the deck.
"Urgh..." Elliot let out, slowly rolling onto his front and pushing himself up onto all-fours. Lifting his head, he saw the Brute crack his knuckles, reading to walk over and finish him off. "Alright. Now I'm pissed." Getting to his feet, Elliot took a steady stance and lifted his fists again, back to the wall he was thrown into.
The Brute charged, joining his fists into one and raising them above his head. Standard berserk attack. He'd bring his fists down like a hammer. Unbalanced, but powerful. Elliot saw it coming, jumping back and flattening himself against the wall.
The Brute came down and buried his fists into the deck, causing the ground to shudder. Elliot quickly jumped forward while his foe was off balance. He swung his right fist around, catching the Brute in the jaw. There was a pop as the creature's jaw bone dislocated, causing the Brute to cry out awkwardly. But Elliot wasn't finished there. He swung the same fist back around, relocating the Brute's jaw with a back hand, causing him to stumble back. Elliot then threw a punch with his left as the Brute rose to fall backwards, dislocating the alien's jaw the other way round this time.
Howling through a gritted jaw, the Brute stumbled with surprise, giving Elliot an edge. The sergeant jumped forward and landed his knee in the alien's chest, causing the creature to pivot backwards and fall. The thud was reasonably loud as the Brute hit the ground.
Elliot drew his knife in one quick motion, flipped it into reverse grip and leapt forward, both hands on the handle and point directed down at the Brute's throat. As he came down, the alien's hands came up and caught the sergeant's arms, holding him an inch away from sinking the dagger into his throat. Pressing his feet against the ground beside the Brute, Elliot pushed harder, preventing the alien from tossing him aside.
"Why is it never easy?" Elliot groaned painfully as the Brute squeezed hard and got ready to break the human's arms like twigs.
Straining against the Brute's strength, Elliot tried to think of what someone else would do. Glancing down, an idea suddenly popped into his head. Something Simmons had a long time ago. 'If it was easy, it wouldn't be any fun.' On the same occasion, they had learned that everyone had a weakness. This Brute had to be male. And there was only one obvious weakness Elliot could think of.
Lifting his left leg, Elliot scythed his knee upward, crunching it as hard as he could into the alien's crotch-plate. The Brute howled, his muscles going slack for a second and keeling forward, his eyes bulging and pain shooting up through his stomach. At the same time, Elliot's knife came downward, and they met each other halfway.
The Brute gurgled as the blade met his throat, before flopping back and going limp, drowning in his own blood. Leaving his knife behind, Elliot stood and twisted his head left and right, hearing a pop and feeling relief from the discomfort in his neck. Rubbing his sore back with one hand, Elliot turned away and started to walk, suddenly stumbling under his left leg and limping onward.
"Ow..." he rubbed his knee. "Gonna feel that one in the morning." Sighing, Elliot left the carnage filled room behind him and suddenly chuckled as he limped back to where the Pelican was parked.
He'd just redefined the meaning of 'Balls of steel.'
**Jiralhanae Battle Cruiser, Coagulated Spirit
Orbiting Holy Ring, Halo, Instillation 02
Ninth Age of Reclamation** Nesa watched eagerly from the edge of the human drop ship's bay as the humans and Sangheili Ranger charged up the ramp and entered. She counted them as they entered, her gut suddenly sinking.
"Is it done?" the soldier who stayed behind with the pilot and the medic to secure the area. "Bombs set?"
"Its done!" the largest human in heavy black armor nodded. "But we have about fifteen seconds. Pilot, lets go!"
"Yes, sir!" the pilot barked in reply, hitting a few switches. "Need about ten to heat up engines!" on cue the engines hummed loudly, venting cool air that rapidly heated up.
"Wait!" Nesa spoke out loud, grabbing the black armored human by the arm. Her human speech was somewhat limited. She could understand perfectly, but she was still learning to speak it. "One soldier missing." She pointed at the man who had stayed behind to guard them. "One is gone!"
The human who had been referred to as McKay earlier froze and glanced around. "Shit!" he gripped a collar around his throat and shouted out loud. "Stray-Dog! Where the hell are you?"
There was a four second pause, before a voice cried out loud across the Seraph bay.
"I'm right here, bro!" the familiar voice yelled.
Nesa looked up and across the bay to the human who had shown some kindness earlier. She recognized him immediately and got that feeling in her gut again. That nag in the back of her mind that said they had met somewhere before. Meanwhile, the human limped rapidly closer... until an explosion rocked the deck.
The engineering bay must have exploded and vibrations rippled outward, sending bits of the ship spiraling out into space. Air and fire vented into the black vacuum outside, dragging with it Jiralhanae crew members, dead and alive. The zero pressure sucked them inside out, dragged their brains out of their eye sockets and froze their blood almost instantly. The whole ship shook violently, causing the human limping towards them to stumble and fall. He hit the deck and tried to get back to his feet, but suddenly the artificial gravity displaced and everything except the drop ship slid sideways.
The human rolled onto his back, then on to his front and braced himself, digging his fingers into the ribbed deck plates. Looking up he saw a Seraph fall from a mount and tumble towards him.
"Look out!" Nesa cried out as she tried to dash to him, but one of the soldiers grabbed her arm and held her back.
The human out in the bay ducked, hugging the deck as the Seraph tumbled over him and slammed into the ground half a meter from his left hand. Nesa couldn't contain it anymore. Forcing herself out of the soldier's grip, she charged down the ramp and to the human's side. Grabbing hold of him she wrapped one of his arms around her neck and lifted him to his feet, helping him limp the last few meters to the drop ship.
Another explosion rippled through the ship as a chain reaction tore across the cruiser. Flames burst from the deck behind them, consuming ammo crates and Seraph fighters. The ramp rose as Nesa helped the human up into the troop bay. The craft took off as the doors sealed. Explosions rippled around the drop ship, shaking the vehicle violently, causing everyone to stumble and snatch for handholds. Flames licked the hull and debris ricochet from the armor plates protecting the inhabitants.
The second the rear hatch was sealed the Sangheili Ranger whirled around and called to the pilot. "Punch it!"
A split second later the drop ship lurched forward causing everyone to crash to the deck. Nesa's new friend hit the ground on his back and she fell right on top of him, causing him to gasp painfully and groan as her elbow buried into his gut. The Pelican drop ship shot out of the Seraph bay, propelled by the outward rippling shockwave that ripped apart the Jiralhanae cruiser, sending the craft spiraling into space. Bits of debris scythed through the vacuum around them, sent spinning into Halo's orbit.
The pilot couldn't help let out a long glee filled cry as he reeled in the thruster power and brought them into a cruise towards the human ship a few miles away.
Nesa pushed herself up on her hands and looked down at the human under her as he slowly lifted his head and rubbed his eye with one hand.
"Are you alright?" she asked slowly, thinking carefully about each word before she said it.
The human looked around before looking up at her and realizing he was lying under her. "Oh... uh... yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."
Nesa very slowly sat up and rolled off the human before he could sit up. The black armored human walked over and offered his hand to lift the human Nesa had just saved to his feet. He slowly waved the black clad human's offer off, preferring to sit.
"So. You've dropped onto an alien artifact, fought alien zombies, rescued some complete strangers, killed a shit-load of Brutes and survived a thermal nuclear blast." The armored figure chuckled. "Lemme guess. You're going to Disney-Land next?"
To Nesa's surprise, the human dropped back to the ground and laughed. He didn't say or do anything else. And neither did the other humans. Despite their near death experience... they just laughed. And Nesa couldn't help join in.
// Pelican Bay
// UNSC Prowler, Whisper
// 2552
Colonel Porter hardly believed his eyes when he saw that single Pelican rocket at the Covenant cruiser. He hardly believed his eyes when he saw the cruiser explode and the single Pelican close in for rendezvous. So you can almost imagine the disbelief in the colonel's eyes when he saw not one alien with the remaining humans from the mission on Hula, but six Covenant refugees led down the Pelican ramp by a limping Gunnery Sergeant Foster. There were many things the colonel wanted to say... only one thing sprang to mind.
"What the fuck is going on, sergeant?" the colonel demanded loudly.
The marines, including a black armored Spartan III snapped into salute before the colonel. The Elites froze, unsure of what they had to do. One of them in combat armor stiffened slightly.
"Sir. We secured the Covenant defect and rescued a survivor from the prior mission, sir." Gunnery Sergeant Foster stated formally, raising his chin slightly.
"This looks more like six defects, sergeant." The colonel said.
"Refugees from aboard the Covenant cruiser, sir." Foster explained. "The Brutes were slaughtering them, sir."
"First of all, why the hell should we care? And second of all, whose bright idea was it to assault a Covenant cruiser?" the colonel demanded. "To jeopardize the mission and take on potentially hostile refugees?"
"Sir, the mission commanding officer's, sir." Foster said. "The role which passed to me after the death of Major Wolsey and Lieutenant Simmons, sir. These refugees are civilian servants, and were being slaughtered by the Brutes. It is my understanding from the Fourth Geneva Convention 1949 Act 3, which is still valid, that all enemy civilian personnel are to be treated with the same care and respect as we treat our own, sir."
"That's horse-shit, sergeant!" the colonel barked, but his tone quickly changed and his expression wore a grin as he considered Foster's carefully picked argument. "But... its good horse-shit. I'm not sure what Major Wolsey would have said, but I'm sure you did Lieutenant Simmons proud. Six defects are better than one. Good work Foster."
Foster looked at the colonel with a mixture of appreciation and hurt for the loss of Simmons which was finally getting to him. "Thank you sir."
"Get cleaned up and get some rest." Colonel Porter announced, glancing at the security personnel accompanying him. "Take the refugees to the infirmary for a full examination. Sergeant, you debrief in six hours. Dismissed."
// Gunnery Sergeant Foster's Private Quarters
// UNSC Prowler, Whisper
// 2552
Elliot made the last fold in the dead lieutenant's dress uniform and picked up the neatly folded dark grey jacket, placing it carefully in a black cardboard box with some of Simmons' other personal things the gunnery sergeant intended to send to James' family. Elliot had all of Simmons' stuff sent to his room so he could sort out what to send back to the ell-tee's family. Fishing into his pocket, he added one last thing to the box before closing the lid. He held up his hand and watched the silver dog tag he had polished earlier dangle in front of his face. Standard tags came with two identical plates depicting the soldiers full name, blood type, other medical details and prayer of preference in case of death. It was a Wolf Pack tradition that upon the Helljumper's death, one plate be sent home to the family, and the other be jettisoned into space during the funeral service. It was lucky the ODST always remembered to retrieve the tags from fallen comrades where possible.
Earlier, Captain of the Whisper had given a good service to the marines who had fallen on Halo. He'd spoken of duty, conviction and honor... but the part in the captains speech that had really brought a tear to Elliot's eye (Which was quite a feat in itself) was the part about family. Your chalk was your family. Your men your brothers. If one falls, all are affected. And all that kind of good stuff.
Elliot sighed, sitting down on the lid of his footlocker and looking at the single tag on the chain in his hands. 'James Simmons / B positive / Penicillin Allergy / No prayer preferred.'
Twisting around, Elliot held the tags over the open box and let go of the chain, watching in slow motion as the single tag disappeared into the box. Picking up the black lid he sealed the box, taped on the address of Simmons' family on Earth and moved the container to his desk. Sadly, Elliot sat down on his single bunk, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Burying you best friend wasn't exactly easy. Then again, as Simmons had said, 'If it was easy, it wouldn't be any fun.' And then, to the sergeant's surprise, he burst out laughing. Now every time he thought of that phrase, which was quite often, he had to think of that fucking Brute he had kicked in the balls. And that's a unique experience that would never leave Elliot.
Suddenly the door to his quarters swished to one side, spilling the hallway light into the room. Elliot's train of thought derailed, he looked up and saw McKay enter the room in a fresh set of combat fatigues and an assault rifle slung across his back.
"Hey, bro. Shouldn't you get some rest?" Elliot asked, grinning.
McKay shook his head. "Naw. Sorry sir. Can't seem to sit still. Guard duty. I'm escorting your friend here around." He stepped aside to reveal his charge.
All Elites looked the same to Elliot, male or female. He could never get any distinguishing features. But for some reason, he just sensed that this was the Elite who had risked her life to save his back aboard the Covenant ship. She had cool ocean blue skin, darker blue freckles on her chest and mandibles and pretty emerald green eyes. She had a slender figure that reminded Elliot of an attractive middle aged woman. She was wearing a long white cotton dressing gown which hugged her slender body and ended just under her knees. It seemed odd how a med-bay dressing could look so good on her when for everyone else it would've looked ridiculous.
"This is Nesa. She requested to speak with you. Didn't say why." McKay said as the Elite lingered by the doorway.
"Oh... okay." Elliot stood and waved to the Elite to enter. "Come in. I'll take it from here McKay. Go get some rest."
"That an order sir?" McKay asked.
"Do you want it to be?" Elliot replied. "Go on, bro. Get out of here." He held out his hand and McKay handed the sergeant his sidearm. Elliot would have preferred to remain unarmed, but protocol clearly stated that soldiers on escort duty had to be armed with the minimum of a pistol.
McKay chuckled and passed the Elite as she entered and looked around. The door swished shut behind McKay, leaving Elliot and the Elite alone in the room.
"So... you speak English?" Elliot asked tucking the pistol into the back of his trousers.
The Elite snapped her gaze around and nodded, her eyes sparkling. "Yes... I still learn to speak. I understand better."
"Huh." Elliot grinned and offered for her to sit on his desk chair. She gracefully declined. "So, Nesa is it?" he sat down on his bunk again and looked up as the alien paced across the room to his desk. "What did you want to see me for?"
"I..." she paused, running her long slender fingers over the black box containing Simmons' things, oblivious to the significance of its contents. "Wanted to thank you."
"Thank me?" Elliot chuckled, shaking his head. "As I remember, you saved me." He corrected.
He figured that look on the alien's face was a smile as she bowed her head, the freckles on her mandibles going a more flushed color. "Maybe... but you took us on your ship... defended us. You took a great risk, and for that I am grateful."
Elliot shrugged, falling back onto his mattress and lying on his back with his hands clasped on his stomach. "Don't mention it." He stretched and yawned. "Taking risks is what I do... did you come all the way up here just to thank me?" he lifted his head and looked at the Elite as she leaned against his desk and watched him.
"No. Not exactly." Nesa said. "I actually wanted to ask something."
"Oh. Okay." Elliot said, resting his head back again and shutting his eyes. "Go for it."
Nesa rubbed her arm and nodded. "Very well. Sergeant, I was wondering if we had met before. When I saw you on the Jiralhanae ship for the first time, I thought I recognized you. Then when I saw you again, I was sure. There was a certain something about you that made me feel... well... strange. There was an odd recognition. And I needed to know whether you felt the same, or am I going crazy?"
The human didn't reply, and Nesa stared for a while before looking away shyly.
"I... I think I may be victim of love on first sight with you, sergeant." Nesa added softly.
There was still no reply. Nesa had expected at least a neutral reaction from him by now. At least say he was flattered, or some other kind of other polite acknowledgement. But he just laid there, not saying a thing.
"Sergeant, I..." Nesa suddenly stopped, cocking her head and standing up. Gingerly walking over, she leaned over the human and saw his eyes were shut, mouth open slightly and was fast asleep. "Sergeant?"
Nesa couldn't help let out a small laugh. He was supposed to be guarding her and he had fallen asleep. The Elite sat beside him on the bed and leaned on one arm. She really couldn't blame him. Poor thing had probably been through an awful lot already. In a way she was glad he hadn't heard what she had just said. It probably would have driven him over the edge.
Reaching out with her other hand she touched his chest and felt his heartbeat through his dark grey shirt. She ran her fingers down across his chest and over his stomach. Humans were a relatively short lived species. He couldn't have been much younger than her. Maybe a year or so at most. He was sculpted pretty nicely too. But then what else could Nesa have expected of a soldier.
For some reason, Nesa suddenly wanted to be held close by someone. Someone being namely the human beside her. Glancing around, as if afraid someone would see her, Nesa lowered herself over the sleeping human, rested her head beside his and wrapped her arms around him. The rhythm of his heart against her hand and the steady sound of his breathing brought a crazy calm to Nesa. She wrapped one leg over his waist and sighed, shuddering with pleasure as she pressed her naked crotch against his hip. Moaning lightly under her breath she slowly moved, rubbing her sensitive pussy against the rough fabric of the sergeant's trousers.
She suddenly stopped, holding him tighter, willing him to wake up and say something right now. She wanted to hear his voice, and wanted even more for him to give her consent. She wanted him to pleasure her through the night, just like in the premonition she had whilst meditating.
"Sergeant." Nesa whispered into the human's ear. He stirred, but didn't wake. She slowly slid over him and straddled his waist, planting her hands in the soft mattress and placing her face beside his. "Elliot." She whispered, remembering how McKay referred to him before they arrived.
He let out a low groan and turned his head away, attempting to roll onto his side. Suddenly realizing he was constricted, Elliot moaned again and slowly opened his eyes to look up at the Elite sitting on him. In an instant he was awake again.
"Whoa!" Elliot jolted, at first attempting to scramble away, but then freezing realizing Nesa had him pinned. "Jesus! What'd I miss?"
Nesa smiled, her eyes glinting hungrily as she slowly undid the knot on the ribbon that held her gown closed at the front. Elliot saw the slow, deliberate motion and figured he knew exactly what this was about.
"Hang on, now!" Elliot quickly snatched hold of her wrists and stopped her. "Take it easy. You said thank you. I think maybe we ought to call it quits at that, don't you think?"
Nesa slowly shook her head, her fingers still nimbly working the knot. "No. this isn't about thanking you. You're attractive, Sergeant Elliot Foster." She said her voice almost a whisper as she rubbed her crotch against his rough trousers again, feeling a tingle of pleasure rise up through her stomach. "I want to know what it's like..."
"What? What it's like to take advantage of a guy when he drops off for a few seconds?" Elliot said somewhat distressed.
"What it's like to mate with some who cares." Nesa corrected seductively. She giggled secretively, figuring that was only half the truth. Part of her also wanted to know what it was like to take advantage of a male instead of being taken advantage of.
The knot in her gown let go and the thin fabric fell open, sliding down over her shoulders and falling in a heap on Elliot's legs behind Nesa, revealing her naked body to the human having a nervous breakdown.
"Uh..." Elliot let out, unable to form words anymore. "Uh..." he'd never felt so insecure in his life. Then again, he'd never woken up with an alien woman on top of him claiming she wanted him right there and then. But then why should he be so scared. It wasn't as if her anatomy was that different from a human woman. There weren't any nasty surprises that Elliot could see. If anything she had the body of a goddess.
As he observed her figure he felt his shorts shrink. Nesa let out an amused hum, looking down between her legs.
"It feels like you are changing your mind." She said in a low tone, fixing her eyes on his.
There was no denying it. This was extremely arousing.
Cocking an eyebrow, Elliot let out a defeated sigh. "Aw, shit. I'm going to hell for this."
He immediately sat up and tried to contemplate on how this would work. She didn't actually have a mouth to speak of, so kissing might have been awkward. Improvising, he pressed his lips against her neck and kissed her skin, slowly travelling down, gently nibbling on her shoulder as his hands ran up the smooth skin on her thighs and making their way up over her hips.
Nesa moaned, cupping his head in her hands and enjoying the sensation of his touch. She suddenly felt something warm and wet on her skin where he nibbled her shoulder. A familiar feeling she hoped was what she thought it was. Giggling as he tickled her sides, she pushed him forward and rolled onto her back, dragging Elliot on top of her. The human lowered himself slightly, cupping her breasts with one hand and kissing the right dark blue nipple. He suckled lightly, gently running his tongue along the circumference, rewarded by a pleasured moan from the Elite girl under him. He felt her hands apply pressure on his head and figured out what she was encouraging him to do.
Slowly roaming lower he kissed her stomach, planted a lick on her bellybutton and slowly moved even more south until he reached the region she wanted his attention directed to.
Nesa took a long breath, shuddering and moaning as Elliot slowly ran the tip of his tongue up along her moist slit. It tasted... well, not how he had expected. It was sweet. Like sugary sweet. Not that he was complaining though.
Nesa wasn't actually prepared for what came. His tongue was soft and wet, and filled her with warmth as she felt it spread her lips before delving deep into her soft velvety depths. She threw her head back, pushing hard against Elliot's face, running her fingers through his rough hair as the soft warm organ in his mouth lapped loudly in and out of her.
Pressing his mouth harder against her vagina, Elliot probed his tongue deeper, rewarded with a pleasured cry from Nesa. She had probably never experienced anything like this before, since she wrapped her legs around his neck and clawed at his hair, breathlessly begging him for more. Then again, Elliot had never been through anything like this either. Not very often you get to pleasure an alien woman.
Nesa panted and begged for more. Pleasure racked her body, causing her muscles to move involuntarily. Her hips began to buck on their own as the sensation brewed deep within her, building and building until the point when she thought she would explode. It was an amazing experience that caused her head to spin violently.
Then the flames of pleasure that built up within her turned into a superheated inferno before exploding, causing a halo of pleasure to rip through her body. Nesa opened her mandibles wide, clenching her eyes shut and arching her back. Her muscles went stiff and her pussy clamped down on Elliot's tongue. She cried out his name as she felt juices explode from her vagina, run past the outer lips and drip into Elliot's mouth.
Elliot's surprised cry was muffled between Nesa's legs as what felt like a tablespoon of her cum ran into his mouth. It tasted sweet and had a thick texture like that of cake icing. Though his first instinct was to pull away immediately, he still lapped up the cum that dripped out of her and swallowed. It was only later he hoped that Elite cum wasn't toxic.
Imagine that. Gunnery Sergeant Elliot Foster receives his Medal of Honor post-mortem. How'd he die, they would ask. To which someone like McKay would humorously reply, death by toxic cum.
Feeling that was an extremely stupid thought, Elliot swallowed the last of her cum and pulled his tongue from her slit. Her muscles slowly went slack and Elliot could pull his head away from her crotch. She looked down at him and sighed, her eyes glowing warmly.
"By the Gods," she whispered with smoky seduction. "I want you inside me."
Elliot frowned. The reason he was doing this was because he knew she wanted him inside her. He was just a little surprised she'd blatantly say it out loud. None the less, without much complaint, Elliot undid his belt, pulled off his pants and leaned over Nesa, kissing her neck and pressed the tip of his erection against her slit. Feeling the lips automatically part to receive him, and lubricated by bother her cum and his saliva, he slowly slid his pulsing cock into her tight, soft opening...
Nesa suddenly let out a distressed cry, causing Elliot to immediately pull back. Hadn't it been for her legs wrapped around her waist he would have pulled out of her completely.
"I'm sorry." Elliot said quickly, straightening up. "I didn't mean..."
Nesa quickly silence him, placing two fingers against his lips. "No, it's all right. You caught me off guard." She assured warmly. "It's just my kind don't usually mate like this."
"Oh." Elliot said a little surprised. "Okay. Then how..."
She finished for him by rolling over again, forcing the human onto his back and straddling on top, his cock still buried deep inside her. Nesa looked down at him seductively, planting her hooves and knees in the mattress, spreading her legs and slowly rising and falling, slowly sliding up and down around his erection. As her powerful legs let her bounce smoothly on his cock, she bucked her hips, clamping her internal muscles, grinding and milking the human who started to squirm under her.
Nesa let out warm loving moans, her mandibles going slack and her gaze slowly rising to the ceiling. Elliot's eyes were closed and his hands rested on her beautiful hips as they started to buck faster. The human couldn't help feel a huge amount of envy for Elite males if this was the traditional way for Elites to have sex. Nesa was amazing. Her rhythm was smooth and unrelenting. Elliot had to fight and clench hard, and even on some occasions try to distract himself to prevent from coming in the first ten seconds of the wonderfully erotic experience.
And then, just a few minutes into their love-making, Elliot couldn't hold out anymore. His eyes flashed open and Nesa looked down, locking her lust filled gaze to his. Elliot stiffened feeling his own semen travel up his shaft. He clenched, but it was no use. There was no holding back anymore. Nesa's hot folds of flesh were just so tight, and her steady erotic rhythm drove him to the edge of insanity. He almost died there and then, breathing hard and sweating profusely.
Nesa felt him twitch and squirm as he prepared to cum. She understood immediately, and was actually glad. She looked down and nodded, giving him permission with a soft smoky whisper. "Go ahead, Elliot... Cum... Cum inside me."
The human didn't need telling twice. A split second later he loosed three powerful spurts of hot semen inside the Elite woman riding him in an unrelenting pace. Nesa moaned loudly, crying out his name as she did earlier when she came, feeling three waves of warm sticky cum coat her insides.
"Ooooooh, yes..." Nesa let out, still riding him with the steady erotic rhythm. "That's so good..."
Elliot was still hard, but getting softer, and three thrusts after he came, Nesa came again, squirting her thick creamy cum all over Elliot's cock.
Panting hard and flopping forward onto her lover's chest, Nesa let out a long moan as she slowly lifted herself off the human's shaft and cuddled up against Elliot. He wrapped his arms around her and sighed.
"That was amazing." He muttered, completely out of breath despite the fact Nesa had done all the work. "You were amazing."
But somehow Nesa had to disagree. Elliot had been the first male she had mated with who treated her gently and lovingly. She had just done what came naturally to her. To her it had been Elliot's affection that had been amazing.
As he felt Nesa fall asleep against him, Elliot rested his head back, staring at the ceiling for a while. He wondered how things would play out from here. Would there be a human/Elite truce? Would this war turn around? Would either Elliot or Nesa survive to see each other again? He sighed, stopping his thoughts there. He decided to just enjoy this one moment of peace because for now, the first time in a long time, he actually managed to switch off. Take a break from being the killing machine he was trained to be... and always will be...
Epilogue
Neither Scruffy or Zara said anything. They just sat on the ground in the corner of their designated room, arms wrapped around each other. Neither of them could stop smiling. Halo... the Flood... the Covenant... all their troubles were light-years behind them. For now the future didn't matter. All that mattered was that they had survived, and that they were together. And together they could face whatever lay before them.
Their journey had finally come to an end...
Fun facts about 'The Journey's End'
Number of A4 pages: 67
Number of words (roughly): 29,789
Number of Bottles of Coca Cola consumed while writing: 895
Number of Pizzas consumed while writing: 48
Number of times I hit writer's block: countless