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Chapter 4 - Dreamscape

Hours had passed before Ze'ev had awoken from the fitful sleep, where he dreams of death and his own annihilation at the hands of his nemesis. His mind was consumed by the fantastical images and apocalyptic powers he had witnessed; it still, upon waking up, seemed surreal. His eyes were half-lidded as he gazed at the ground, weakly turning his head up and looking around the room. He felt a desolateness inside of him, as if he everything he had left was deceased.

I have beheld a scene of abysmal visions; perhaps fate is a virus, spread through our hopes, leaving us disillusioned. Eyth 'Kha has succeeded--he is well on his path of genocide, should he leave this ring; in a final, and exhausting effort, I must ensure that he dies.

The lights provided a calming essence and the temperature were less frigid than before, but still chilling nonetheless. Ze'ev moved to the mountain of crates he had stored over the course of half a year. Usze would have been proud of this, Ze'ev thought-- and he looked over his shoulder to the blood stained white armor in the pale light.

I wonder if you will regret being alive, human.

Ze'ev stepped to his side and removed the helmet, seeing only minor damage to the human's cheek bone, and a few lines of blood that had snaked through his hairline, and down to his eye.

"You have risked your life, human--thank you. The consequence of your affair is you are entwined in this cruel fate. Perhaps you should have perished too?"

He stood up and moved away from the human, deciding it would be best if he were left to sleep, and ventured off into different parts of the structure. He did not know specifically what part of the ring he was in, and in the few times Ze'ev had been there to dispense his supplies, he never stayed long to investigate.

"What purpose does this place serve?" Ze'ev asked aloud as he eyes over the impressively tall metallic walls. He advanced through a sliding door, the eerie silence of the halls interrupted by the soft metallic sliding. Inside was the smooth polished surfaces of various monitors and control panels, and he wondered if he was somehow near the index chamber. He ran his hand over the panels, glancing to the large projector table that was in the center of the room and pressed down a series of his keys to activate the monitors. A bright, white light filled the room, illuminating the almost solid blackness of the area and it felt comforting; he did not understand why there was no power, or not enough lighting in the area.

"Hello! I am Monitor 13-831 Expiation of Solitude! I am the assigned monitor to Installation--" From behind Ze'ev a sudden voice had sent him into frenzy as he retracted his Type-53 from his hip and spun around. The floating, dark green Oracle had remained motionless and the two stared at each other in silence, with Ze'ev lowering his weapon immediately.

"I did not realize--"

"That there was a Monitor? Do not be silly, of course there is! I am the monitor assigned to Installation Theta/Iota. I will now scan the structure for any detectable flood." The monitor floated away from Ze'ev and over the command panel, bringing up a series of windows with ancient Forerunner glyphs, and it made an inquisitive hum.

"It seems there is no flood virus, but two point three kilometers in diameter of space has been heavily irradiated." The monitor looked over to the Sangheili, "Why did you damage my Ring?"

Ze'ev looked confused, the child-like voice and innocence of the Oracle was beyond him, but he politely answered. "I did not--I apologize for it occurring, however."

"Oh, well that is ok! If you had been the one to do it, I would have been forced to terminate you for destruction to the ring! Hehe, but do tell me why you are here!" The Oracle moved closer, scanning over the body of the Sangheili to record his biometric statistics.

"A tetraploid! Oh!" The Oracle almost seemed giddy as it bounced up and down in front of Ze'ev who looked away with a frown, "Oh you are a rare kind! And your blood--it is erythrocyte! Are you a hybrid Sangheili?"

"No I am not." Ze'ev replied with a sour tone, frowning deeply. "Please do not bother me with these personal questions. I am not here to talk about me, Oracle."

"Well then why are you here?" It replied.

"One of my own has by some strange measure an apocalyptic gift." Ze'ev said under his breath. "Some kind of--gift, an evil power! It could very well be worse than the flood!"

Solitude chirped happily, "A new power, even more dangerous than the Flood? Go on then--tell me, I don't know what it is like to have an imagination, so I cannot perceive this threat yet!"

"Noosphere Catalyst." Ze'ev replied stoically.

The oracle suddenly buzzed loudly in alarm and turned a bright red, slamming it-self towards the Sangheili in an almost humanlike anxiety, demanding to know all of the information that Ze'ev had of the subject. Ze'ev pushed it away with his hand, explaining he knew nothing of the sort and only explained what he had seen, to which the Solitude panicked.

"This is very, very unacceptable! How could you have allowed him to--"

"I did NOT beget him with the means!" Ze'ev exclaimed, "He has inexplicably acquired this; I have just learned today. What is this Noosphere?"

The Monitor panicked floated around the room, speaking to it-self quickly. "Unacceptableunacceptableunacceptable! Do you have any items that he has handled? I must, must, must archive them!"

"Yes. The Spartan presently was recording the situation I presume--I also have a weapon from him, it seemed to have been altered."

Ze'ev led him from the room and back to the teleportation grid. He pointed to the sword and helmet, which Solitude immediately floated down to scan both, with a bright blue bolt of electricity connecting them. Ze'ev removed his helmet and set it down on a crate, as he observed the strange Monitor, noting his erratic movements, and panicking whirling. It processed the information in a mere second, before giving off a whirl of distress.

"It appears that this Zealot has harnessed a very old weapon. You have not heard of this in legend, because there is not one; Black Sun Architect was efficient at hiding the evidence."

"Then how do you know of it? Where did it come from?" Ze'ev asked immediately, stepping forward. "In the recording--did you see how the human--"

Solitude answered in a very chipper way, "I did, and it was quite a spectacle! I have never seen a Transsentient being before! Incomprehensible technology--and it was displayed right before our eyes!"

"It is nothing to be merry about!" Ze'ev almost shouted in revile at the Oracle's jubilation over the incident. "How do I defeat this psychic monster?"

"Well-- little is known about the Precursors, beyond what has been preserved by my creators. However, there was one in specific the Forerunners had documented heavily, before the Flood War. This information is secret though, so you cannot share, ok? Or else I will be deactivated!"

"Tell me, please!" Ze'ev demanded and stomped forward, gripping his fist in excitement. "I must be told everything you know, now!"

"Ok ok! Well at some time during 10,100,000 BCE, during the start of the Forerunner and Precursor war it was captured by Black Sun Architect. Its name cannot be translated, but a deciphering has translated it to The Faceless God." Solitude chirped, "The temple where they conducted their experiments was named Chimera Diffluence."

Ze'ev's eyes widened, "That temple--it was aboard a desert moon near the outer galactic region!"

"You've been do this location? Oh good! Would you allow me to extract your neurons and document this information?"

"No I would not." Ze'ev answered sternly, taking a cautious step away. "We were ambushed by Jiralhanea who eradicated the facility not long after our battle with the Covenant."

"Oh, I am sorry. It is never acceptable to have members of your own species atomized!" Solitude seemed almost sympathetic, but quickly continued.

"Yes--thank you."

"Continuing on--using his abilities to influence and manipulate its own species, it effectively caused the insanity that sent them on a massacre; not just against their creations, but against other planets, and species. In 10,200,752 BCE, Faceless God was sentenced to a form of imprisonment known as Rictus Void; it permanently placed into a comatose state, and sealed away. In specific, the Eradinus Supervoid had been chosen, at a distance of five-hundred million light years away!"

"Then--how does this deal with the moon in the Andromeda galaxy?" Ze'ev asked, "How did they manage to trap him?"

"The Forerunners decided to extract the Central Nervous System, to study how the Precursors dissolved into the dust, and then into the flood! Really exciting! Little evidence exists of what occurred aboard the testing facility aside from the main prerogative."

Solitude waited for a moment to allow this information to sink in, feeling somewhat giddy as it expelled this ancient data. It moved away and projected an image of Charum Hakkor, "After the destruction of this planet, it was believed that The Primordial must have sought out to find Noosphere, but no one can know for certain if they had made contact."

"How did they keep Noosphere placated?" Ze'ev wondered, "To suppress such an omnipotent being--what technology was used?"

"That information does not exist, I am sorry." Solitude bounced a little in place, "After the Precursors became consumed with insanity, and transmuted into the Flood, and it was thought that that Noosphere's consciousness had disappeared. It appears that my creators underestimated the determination of this being! If left unattended, as before, Noosphere will attempt to consume the collective consciousness of the galaxy!"

Ze'ev stood back against the wall. The scope of the situation was immense, eons of existence; a single nervous system had survived the unthinkable stretch of time. And once more--it seemed to have infused its own agenda with Eyth 'Kha, and Ze'ev could only imagine the amount of madness, and murderous intent the amalgamation could produce!

"A very interesting theory is that Noosphere's evil intent had in a way infected prehistoric human minds! Black Sun Architect described that unprotected exposure caused mental damage in the form of various neurological disorders, and diseases!" Solitude buzzed and then floated away as it seemed to ponder, "I wonder how this could affect the Flood; they're guided by revenge! I love to speculate, I am happy I was programmed with the ability to, and to be happy about it! Things work out so well!"

Ze'ev closed his eyes in grim realization as he absorbed the information, having known so little about the Precursors, like most of his kind. He him-self had only learned little about the Forerunner and Precursor war, and never imagined that one of the creators would have to be imprisoned, for attempting to corrupt its own species, violating The Mantel most importantly.

"I would like to recover this Sangheili's body, to see how it has reacted to exposure! But we must do this before the ring's activation, and take no chances in the body being even remotely existent!"

"If we activate the rings, it will destroy the galaxy!" Ze'ev protested immediately.

"The Noosphere will summon the flood into the galaxy, and continue where it left off." Solitude warned with a deepening of its child like voice, "If you attempt to disrupt my protocol, I will be forced to terminate you; and I do like your personality."

"Eyth 'Kha intends for the ring's activation. The rings harmonize all neural frequencies. Imagine what it would accomplish if that occurred."

Solitude lingered for a moment, calculating the possibility of such a counter; and while it did not abide by standard protocol, and could not allow the ring to be misused. The Monitor decided that it would be effective to then kill the host and possibly Noosphere, though he was still uncertain how Noosphere had gained control over this Eyth 'Kha. He asked to be allowed to perform experiments on the body, to which Ze'ev said he did not care; he asked then, how they intended to kill him.

"Through whatever means I can. Eyth 'Kha was maddened before Noosphere--he will persist to activate this ring, at all costs."

"It will be impossible without me!" Solitude reminded him cheerfully, "Unless he locates my-self, he will not be able to use it! Now allow me to disable all forms of transportation on the grid; this will delay his travel, and send out Sentinels to locate him!"

The Monitor fluttered away and Ze'ev was left in the silent room. He ran the conversation over in his mind, thinking back to their invasion of that moon; they had destroyed one forerunner device that day. He never imagined that there would have been a comatose brain hidden in the recess of the moon. Ze'ev replayed the mission and its foundation in his head, thinking over the day they had taken a sojourn to the moon. It was a simple routine of escaping the madness of space and allowing his men to recover; now he felt like this all was as Eyth 'Kha stated his fault.

He screamed out in madness slammed his hand down hard, "How could any species so advanced--be so god dammed careless! And it was fate for us to go there--for my men to die, for one to be possessed! Damn it all!"

In a tryst of rage he grasped the heavy crate his arm rested on, bending his knees to lift it over his head, and flung it across the room! As it crashed he screamed and targeted another crate, slamming his fists through the wooden visage, crushing the entire side of it. He grasped his fists and pounded them into the wall, screaming out so hard his throat burned, and he felt like he was losing his voice, but he did not care! He thrashed in anger until he had destroyed several crates, spilling the contents across the floor and reducing them to splinters and ruble.

Ze'ev punched his fist into the wall with such rage that it left a sizable dent equivalent to his head, and he reared back in pain. He repeatedly abused the wall until his hands could no longer bare the onslaught, and he fell to his knees and stayed on them, dropping his head to his chest. He ran his claws down the back of his head in anger as he heaved in rage.

Dreams are the fodder

From our poisoned quest; cast

Their hearts to the wind. Ze'ev muttered under his breath a haiku that had come to mind, and he felt the burning stain of the accumulation of years of struggle, dying off in a single event. Defeat had followed their clan like a terminal illness, metastasizing as hope was rehydrated from an apparition of the vista of opportunity. He felt as if now the species would be doomed, only half-believing in any chance to stop Noosphere from his current position.

Silently he lingered there for many minutes and glanced over to the Spartan on occasion. He wondered how long he would be there, and retrieved the helmet from across the floor, taking it into his hands. He grasped for the helmet, lowering his eyes over it and sighed quietly under his breath; while he still felt maddened with anger, he could not indulge in it. The human had witnessed these events, and Ze'ev would need to review the evidence; but somehow, he did not feel mad at this one in particular. He sucked in a deep breath, having purged him-self of his built up anger, and departed to inquire the monitor about it.

"You may access it from the room at the end of the hall, on your left side!" Solitude replied happily.

"Thank you, Oracle." Ze'ev answered dryly, and plodded to the end of the hall as instructed. He curiously skimmed over the content of mission logs as he sat in a chair; he noticed a seven month gap in the year of 2550, with a recording once a week. He reviewed the videos, which were auto-biographical descriptions of what had been occurring. The human, known as Evans, described events such as his augmentation and events taking place aboard the colony; it seemed to be for Psychoanalysis, not military updates.

The next video, after the gap half year gap, was of the human sitting alone in a dark room, armor clad, with his visor covering his face. He was staring at the wall, and Ze'ev increased the volume slightly, which played from a surround system. He could hear the human breathing slowly and weakly, cussing under his breath, and then rests his face in his hands in the chair. He could hear sobbing, it was quiet and painful; the shoulders heaved up and down as the human wept vociferously, and Ze'ev grew uncomfortable at this.

"I am fucking sorry man--I am so sorry! God dammit man--why didn't you run! Why didn't any of you!" The Spartan then stood and flung his arm across the table and the camera tumbled to the floor with a thud, and he heard two voices enter the room, and the human shouted at them.

The video abruptly ended, and Ze'ev felt at a loss; the gap of videos was distressing. He reviewed another five videos, however it seemed that there had been an almost two year long gap between the human's video in the dark room, and the most recent recordings. However no recordings of the battles had been taken, either that, or they were removed for review by his commander.

? ? ?

Evans groaned weakly from the floor as his consciousness began to drift in and out; he still, in the beginning, thought he was on the surface, and wondered how he had not froze to death. It took long durations of searching his memory to realize he was no longer outside and it was very dark, with a small bit of light coming from above him. The Spartan forced him-self up, rolling his head to the side and cracking his neck hard as it felt like his brain banging against his skull. He looked up from the ground and saw a mountain of wooden boxes and barrels, with some debris cast around him. His head rolled back for what seemed like hours, or possibly minutes; he could not tell between consciousnesses how much passed. His vision faded in and out as he looked around slowly, and still partially asleep, he fleetingly sat on his rear, staring at the floor. When he had come to his senses that he needed to wake up, Evans shifted onto his feet, catching him-self by holding his knees.

"Ugggh--fuck me running--my head. Christ--"

He quickly he dredged up the memory of having been saved from something, or someone. Evans quickly pushed him-self out the door, and reached for his weapon, but he was unarmed. Evans cussed under his breath, and held against the wall as he slowly, and quietly walked along the hallway, towards a far away room at the end of the hall. The place was old, very old indeed and he carefully stepped through the chasm of metal walls; he knew he was not alone, he could sense someone else was near him. He grabbed his head and moaned low in agony as he slumped into the wall, swaying slightly as he nearly lost his footing.

Where in the fuck am I? Uggh--fuck this headache; fuck it in the ass, man! Evans rounded a corner carefully, peering first from it and continued to cautiously walk towards the last door. Illuminated only by a light from the dim light from the walls, he could see the Sangheili wore only something like a cloak, stained in blood and was visibly old.

They stared at each other in silence and Ze'ev slowly stood up with the cloak reaching down to his feet. Evans looked back the Sangheili, giving him a look over and felt intimidated by his colossal physique, which now that he had seen, towered above any Sangheili, or person he knew. His shoulders were very broad and bulky; his appendages were engorged with muscle which made Evans feel even smaller in comparison to this hulk. The more odd features he noticed were the Elite's ebon skin, the lower jaw, and his bright lapis lazuli eyes that pierced through the dark room.

"Human--I did not expect, at this time, for you to be conscious." Ze'ev quietly began as he turned down the volume of the beautiful tones, careful to not move to fast.

Evans said nothing in return, noting the rich deepness of the Elite's voice which was calm, but held a strong, commanding tone to it. The Elite crossed his arms and watched the human cautiously; the two, eyeing each other did not attempt any hostile movements, but were constantly in preparation for it.

"Why didn't you kill me?"

"I would ask you the same question, human." Ze'ev replied calmly.

Evans nodded a tad awkwardly, remembering in fact he saved him from the other more murderous psychopath; seeing as how Ze'ev was not hell bent on destruction, Evans instinctively protected him. He regretted it, at least now, thinking he would be retired forcefully from the army if they ever caught wind of it; until then, he decided against any kind of hostile behavior.

"Where are my weapons?" Evans demanded to know, "And yours?"

"I do not know." Ze'ev replied honestly, "When I took you from the site, you may have dropped them. If you would like to feel a form of security, I will give you my own."

Ze'ev reached down for his Type-55 and placed it on the floor by the human's feet; he them swiftly knocked them across the floor, to the human. Evans grasped them and checked for their functionality, satisfied to see them equally capable of defending him. He then looked up to the Sangheili, putting the gun away; he felt more at ease, but unsure of Elite's intentions.

"Where are we, Elite?" He asked, looking around the dark metallic chamber. "Underground?"

"I do not know." Ze'ev answered honestly. "This sector, I believe, is for communing."

Evans looked up at the Sangheili from between his fingers, bringing his shoulders back to pop them a bit, and then bent his neck at the same. He felt a satisfying release of pressure, and then rubbed at his head slowly; he sat down against the wall and closed his eyes. Ze'ev watching him carefully, feeling an awkward tension that in his almost sixty years he had never felt before, stood with his arms by his side. He had never before spoken to a human, though he knew their language as did many. They were silent for some time and Ze'ev turned his eyes to this pale being, what am I to do, with him? I cannot abandon him--he saved me from certain death. Perhaps I should just bring him with me, until I can send him away from this place, to handle Eyth 'Kha.

Evans groaned out in another surge of pain as the throbbing, needlelike agony pulsated behind his eyeball and against his brain. He bent inwards and tried to squeeze his head, hoping for it to stop at some point.

"You are weak, human." Ze'ev began with modest sympathy. "You need to rest your-self."

"Thank you, Doctor." Evans muttered, "But I do not think I'd feel safe sleeping, not right now. You could try breaking my neck, bro. I wouldn't risk that--haha."

"Oh, I am not a Doctor," Ze'ev reassured him, feeling a sting of resentment from the human at his harsh statement. "My promise will mean nothing to you, but I am not going to harm you."

Evans frowned a bit, "Well--I am still not going to sleep, not with that psychopath on the loose. Fuck that--but, I suppose I should thank you, for preventing me from being nuked." He felt a bit dry at the mouth as he uttered his gratitude, and Ze'ev in return felt only the hollowest of approval, equally blasé by the human's conduct.

"We are safe at the moment; all transportation aboard the ring has been disabled by the Monitor. As it stands--travel by foot is the only option." Ze'ev spoke from over his shoulder. He sent a distress signal to Usze, but was uncertain if it would reach him. Evans looked down at the ground and frowned deeply, "Are there any ships to get off this thing?"

Ze'ev shook his head, "There are none."

Evans fell silent as this news brought a dark reality to him; he was alone, and with no way to contact Command, there was no telling when, or if anyone would come. The ring would be a priority, he knew this--but he knew he was not. He sighed and ran his hand over his face, slumping into the wall.

"Doesn't matter if I died or not--they wouldn't come rescue me. I'm completely expendable." He sighed under his breath and looked to the floor, "Fuck--unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable."

"I apologize for your current situation--but there is nothing I can do." Ze'ev began quietly as he turned his head away, moving across the room to retrieve his drink. He sipped from it, sighing in delight as he tasted the cool water; glancing to the human, he then set the canister on the floor, and slide it across with his foot.

"I am Ze'ev 'Ardos, Ex-Commander of Eternity's Sunrise."

"I am Spartan-III Evans-095. And I know about you, or your clan really." He replied, scooping up the canister from the floor. He sniffed at it before drinking the cool water which soothed the dry, irony flavor in his mouth. He cleaned off his lips and held the cool object to his head and frowned at the floor, "Is anyone going to come for you?"

"I do not know." Ze'ev answered honestly, "If they do--I will assure you that you will not be held prisoner."

"Haha--yeah, thanks." Evans replied.

Ze'ev did not reply as he resided to sitting back on the floor. He felt cold in the dark room, the brooding doom that Eyth 'Kha brought still on the back of his mind, and he mulled over the information. He knew the only way to stop him would be complete annihilation; if Noosphere's original CNS was destroyed then he must have implanted him-self into Eyth 'Kha.

Killing him will be the only measure I can think of. Unless he miraculously possesses another body--but if his original form exists, maybe he is trying to get back to it? I cannot understand his intentions even--to kill off our own race, what does this Noosphere desire from genocide?

Ze'ev calmly put his hands together as he looked down at the steel floor, and he heard a borborygmus from across the room; the human was hungry, or had been, but said nothing. Evans was visibly uncomfortable as well, in pain and in hunger and he knew he could not ignore this. Though as a history the two species had never since been aligned, only at peace through intervals, Ze'ev was not one for unconditional hate--all his years of experiencing had taught him this. Evans watched as the Elite stood from the floor and moved to a large wooden crate, or what he perceived as wood, possibly from Sanghelios. The elite reached in, and retracted a bristle, spike covered object from the crate; Evans watched carefully as what Ze'ev did. The elite set it down, and retracted a knife from the crate and cut the object in half with a loud crack, and then a somewhat gross squishing sound. He broke the object in half, and then looked to Evans, and took a few steps forward, extending his hand.

"We share similar digestive organs." Ze'ev held the green-meat filled spiked object to Evans, "Many warriors consume this during battle; it sustains us well."

Evans was cautious at first, and when he took it, he motioned for Ze'ev to eat first, to firstly observe how you consumed it. The elite scoop his fingers under the purple flesh to retract the half-sphere green meat into his fingers; he then bite at it, and consumed it. Evans sniffed at the meat, finding a smell similar to burned marshmallow that made it more approachable, and he peeled it from the shell. It was a little larger than his hands, and he bit at it slowly and was surprised to find the flavor was unlike anything he had tasted. A combination of savory and sweet, but it could not be compared to any meat, not even the great deity of pork could compare to this strange flavor essence.

He ate it quickly and Ze'ev watched in, then took the shell from Evans, and placed it upon the crate. He retrieved more food and showed him a blue, fleshy ball with small yellow orbs that decorated the top; it was like an artichoke, but with seeds between the petals of flesh. The two ate in silence, until Evans had finished the selcouth meal, and he wiped his mouth, feeling his headache disappear, and he felt more vim than before. It was almost the effects of an energy drink and a serious dose of morphine.

"I feel pretty damn good--head is killing me still." Evan said, rubbing his head which felt light and it was easier to stand. He looked over to Ze'ev and decided he wasn't so bad, "Thanks."

The feeling was strange between them, but they nodded to each other. Ze'ev explained to him that they would need to soon begin their descent through the ring, and asked him to rest. Sometime later they were back in the same room as before, Evans had lingered around, feeling annoyed at having to sleep on the floor. Ze'ev approached through the door and the two made eye contact for a moment, and the Elite then nodded to him, as he pried open another crate. He retracted a white folded layer of foam, than he handed to Evans, followed by a white pillow and a paler white coverlet.

Evans folded it out into a small area for him to sleep on the opposite side of the room and found the oversized items to be comfortable. He was hesitant to undress from his suit of armor; however he kept the plasma rifle with him under the pillow, and lay down on his back. The Elite followed shortly, before turning the music onto a low volume, half hoping that possibly he could dream without fear, and would sleep for the first time in months without pain. He lay onto his back and looked up to the ceiling in silence; it was now a new feeling, to lie in a bed, without shackles or pain. Or without the fear he would be beaten in the middle of the night; the rest would be but the beginning of a new mission for him. He felt the resurfacing of anger and sadness at this new battle, but he wondered if he would not alone this time; with the human and Monitor at his aid, stopping Eyth 'Kha seemed probable.