Legacy of the Precursors, Chapter 3: Destiny
Legacy of the Precursors Chapter 3: Destiny Your destiny is to die but it is what you do in between in life that matters... -Anonymous Six and Varn crossed the expansive bridge and stopped inside a strange courtyard. As anticipated, it was made of the same material that spanned the entirety of the fortress. The rain gave the fortress a glowing sheen, and as the spartan and sangheili passed through the courtyard and headed farther into the citadel, Six ran a passing gauntlet across a rain splashed barrier jutting out of the floor. It felt smooth and metallic under the spartan's gauntlet. "Curious..." He muttered quietly to himself. It did not feel like any natural material he knew of. Intrigued, the spartan flipped open the hardcase on his right vambrace and typed on the TACPAD that lay within. He ran a composition analysis on the partition, scanning it with the device. It would take some time for the program to gain results so the spartan closed the case and resumed moving. He found the sangheili standing at a pair of massive doors leading further into the foreign fortress. Varn placed a four fingered hand on the doors and was slowly feeling it across. As the spartan made his way over to his companion, the sangheili began to speak, astonishment filling his voice. "This structure strikes me as familiar....spartan." He may have dropped the Demon title when addressing Six, but he could not bring himself to use the spartan's name. "And yet...." He trailed off, removing his reptilian hand slowly. The sangheili looked directly at the approaching spartan. "I can discern no method of opening these gates." Six stopped next to Varn and looked at the doors. He could see no visible switch or handle, and even his great strength could not move them, with or without his cohort's help. These portals towered above him, twenty feet in height and composed entirely of the material that pervaded every inch of this place. Nor did the spartan have a sufficient amount of explosives to even consider blowing the doors open, indeed, until he knew what it was made of, he wouldn't even know if explosives would work in the first place. At the moment, it seemed that their journey had come to a sudden and impassible conclusion. An abrupt torrent of rage bubbled to the forefront of the spartan's awareness. He would not...no...could not, accept defeat so soon. Six tightened his gauntlet into a fist and brought it crashing down onto the thick metallic doors, provoking a deep resonant boom that faded into a dull echo. Six's helm lightly connected with the gates and he sighed softly. His journey ended before it could even begin, but the spartan was not one to give up so easily. Six would just have to find another entrance into this accursed fortress. To think that a single set of doors could stop the determination and fortitude of a spartan was preposterous. In the meantime, Varn, who had been watching the spartan with a curious, began to notice a slow procedural change in their surroundings. A soft blue light gradually emerged from the epicenter of where the spartan's helmet was, branching out in geometrical lines all across the black surface of the large gates. "Looks spartan, something is occurring." Six lifted his head, seeing the orderly sapphire lines splintering off from where he had laid his helm. The spartan backed up and observed as the cerulean streaks soon reached the edge of the gates and then continued to advance, sprawling across the entirety of the visible citadel, outlining it all in a blue hue. Soon, the dark and stormy night was given light by the illuminated manifestations. It was one of the most remarkable things either individual had seen in their lives. An unexpected clang snatched their attention and they looked back to the massive doors. A vertical azure light split it down the center and a ponderous groaning reverberated through the air as they sluggishly opened, revealing a large darkened corridor that slowly began to fill with a lax blue light, the same pattern of lines crawling along pre-destined paths on the walls. It reminded the spartan of UNSC installations that had been mothballed. It had that same feeling of abandonment and neglect, as if the owners had up and left in a hurry, shutting out the lights and locking the doors. But what really interested the spartan was why they had opened. What had caused such an immediate change? All he had done was touch the gates and he didn't think that was what had done it. And yet, where he had placed his head was where the heart of the lights originated from. But the spartan did not care as much about that, as the result of whatever happened. The doors were now open, and they could continue on inside. Six jerked his helm, motioning for Varn to follow and the baffled sangheili complied as the duo marched on into the alien citadel. As they walked along the barren and pristine hall, Six had an odd thought. This thing they had entered was leagues ahead of the technology he had seen so far on this planet from its less than friendly residents. In fact, it appeared to be more advanced than anything he had seen being actively used in the UNSC. The walls and lights just screamed future tech. What was this place? What was this world? He had never seen its like before, and he had been to many plants in his service. The spartan had many questions, and no answers. Noble Six looked behind him to see the elite staring at the walls in wonder. Clearly, he was enthralled by it, for what reason, Six could not say. They followed the now lit corridor until it branched off into three sections. At this point, the Spartan-III didn't know what he was doing, at the moment he was running purely off instinct and hypothesis. He felt the need to head to the center of this strange place. He decided on a logical conclusion and chose the center tunnel. The deeper he and Varn progressed into the facility, the more changes he began to notice. The corridor was beginning to subtly narrow, the process was so slow that he had almost not noticed it. In addition, there were large protrusions every couple hundred feet or so, one on each side, facing each other. A blue symbol was splashed on the bottom of the square-like out-crops and they looked like hatches of some sort. He noted that Varn was taking particular interest to those, as if he knew what they were. And so the spartan asked him. The sangheili swiveled his head away from his survey and acknowledged his inquiry, mandibles clacking together. "I have seen something like this before, but not in the way it is here. But if my speculation is accurate then we have stumbled upon something...magnificent." There was a hint of something in the elite's inflection, but he did not know what. It reminded him of apprehension, or perhaps reverence. Six and Varn progressed through the obviously alien structure and eventually arrived at a colossal rotundas chamber with a vaunted ceiling that rose up hundreds of feet in the air. Its interior was a dark silvery color, like an ashen black. And in the center of it all was a pedestal. They approached the pedestal and stopped. It was the first object they had seen since entering the fortress. The plinth stood up to their chests and the top was slanted with an interface on the top. It was roughly in the shape of a hand, but had no discernable traits apparent. It could have taken any hand of any species. But, it was a large hand, big enough for both Six and Varn. "What should we do?" The spartan asked, looking to the elite by his side. The sangheili took a long time to answer. "I am uncertain. We have made it this far..." He dropped off. Six watched as the elite stepped forwards towards the pedestal and hesitantly placed a palm on it. Both individuals sat in silence, waiting for something to happen, but as time passed, Varn removed his hand. Nothing had happened. But, a spark of recognition lit up in the sangheili's eyes and he turned to Six. "Spartan, place your palm on the device." "Why?" He questioned in puzzlement. "Because, when you touched the gates they opened. I do not know why, but it is possible that this would work as well." Varn backed up, waiting for the spartan to comply. Six shook his head but did as the elite had instructed, a strange sense of Déjà vu urge to touch the device welling up inside him, almost an imposable driving force, and so he placed his gauntlet upon the surface. Almost immediately, it light up brightly, the same blue lines trickling down the stand and spreading across the floors. In tandem, a holographic interface materialized in front of him, the screen filled with incomprehensible symbols. "It is as I thought; this is a temple for the gods!" Varn exclaimed in veneration, dropping to his digitigrade knees and genuflecting, whispering what sounded like prayers to the spartan. Six gazed at the sangheili in confusion, that is at least until he understood what he had meant. From briefings, he had gathered that the Covenant worshipped the long dead and decidedly advanced race, the forerunners. Now the spartan grasped why the fortress seemed to be familiar. He had seen the forerunner excavations underneath SWORD base, and they held an uncanny resemblance to this place. The deciding variance was the colors, these were far more edgy then the bright silver he was used to. It gave the structure a markedly different feel to it, more along the lines of a derelict military base then an exotic ruin. If he still had contact with the UNSC, this would have been an invaluable find. The possibilities in technological advancement from an intact and operational forerunner ruin were inconceivable. It could skyrocket military technology and allow humanity a distinct fighting chance against the Covenant. But considering there was no way to contact the UNSC, if indeed he was in the same dimension as previous, it was useless. The irony was palpable. Here was something vital to humanities expansion, and it would most likely never see use. Yet, it was possible that it could at least serve him. If there was a starcharts, he might be able to find out where he was, and possibly if he could find a way back to human space. "Greetings. I am 266 Indeterminate Warrior. I am the Monitor of Instillation 17. Oh, a Reclaimer! I have been waiting eons for you to come!" At the sound of the bizarrely cheerful and light tinny voice, Six whipped his head up to the left and grabbed one of the shotguns magnetized to his back, leveling the barrel at a strange spherical object hovering a few feet away. The metallic orb had a large red eye taking up most of the center of its ebony chassis; it was concave on three sides and a little larger than the spartan's head. There was a slight humming noise as it hovered close to him, looking down with what could only be curiosity as the orb tilted to the side marginally. Six was more surprised that the floating cyclops could speak English, than that it was there. "Reclaimer...wait, why you are speaking English." The flabbergasted spartan demanded. The orb bobbed and replied in an airy tone. "It was rather simple Reclaimer, a quick scan of your cerebral cortex and I was given all of the data I needed. This...English, as you so call it, reminds me of a far older dialect. I also detected trace elements of tachyon particles on your persons...most curious...most curious indeed." The eye orb muttered to itself, some things about causality and time. Six didn't give the strange things ramblings much thought. Six shook his head in confusion. What in the hell was a tachyon particle? All of this new information, while welcomed, was overwhelming. Varn looked up from his reverential prayers and saw the floating machine. "This is a holy oracle. They speak the words of the olden gods. But I have never seen one like it before." He added, studying the oracle's odd coloring. The monitor tilted its red eye to examine the sangheili. "Ah, species-37, otherwise entitled Sangheili, it is good to see that your race has advanced as well. That must mean that our directive is proceeding as scheduled, most wonderful news!" Varn shook his head in confusion. "Directive, what is this that you speak of, oracle?" Instead of answering, the oracle flew in a lazy circle and stopped above the holographic displays. "Please follow me, we have much to prepare!" The monitor giggled oddly and began to zigzag away, humming to itself. Six reluctantly turned to the elite for advice, considering he had some sort of experience with these things. "What should we do?" Varn answered with a semi-hesitant frown. "I believe it would be wise to follow it....for now." The spartan shrugged and mag-locked his shotgun, following after the oracle. He was not thrilled with the strange little machine, it gave off all the hallmarks of an AI suffering from the long term effects of rampancy, but it also seemed that it might have the answers they desperately needed. Perhaps it could even tell them where they were and if they could somehow get back to their respective leaders. Of course though, that would cancel their alliance of convenience. But that was a problem to consider afterwards, not that the spartan was not prepared to do what he had to do.
The cerulean vixen walked through the extraordinarily wondrous halls of the palace, staff in paw. She had heard tales from the CloudRunners that spoke of this obscure citadel. According to ancient legend, it has stood atop the mountain since they first began to record history. It is not known what race built the obsidian fortress, but most of the tribes of Sauria consider it to be the abandoned home of the gods. And for that reason, very few are allowed to enter, and even few have the courage to enter its halls. As Krystal took in its advanced splendor, she could understand how they reached such an assumption. Its hallowed corridors shown with a soft and beautiful artificial light, which emanated from the blue outlines scrawling along the smooth alloyed walls and gave the palace a primordial and yet cutting-edge air. The vixen was trying to find the earthwalkers that had activated the distress beacon, but so far had not seen them. The signal had originated from somewhere in the citadel, near the far eastern side. And as time crawled onwards and no sight of the earthwalkers was uncovered, her unease was only nurtured. The CloudRunners had also warned her of the vicious and warlike sharpclaws that had been building in power and dominance across the planet. Something had changed for them and their usually ineffective assaults had drastically increased in success. Most if not all of their newfound tactical brilliance could be attributed to their leader a particularly nasty saurian called General Scales. Something had happened and he seemed to have gained a knack for waging war beyond what was expected of his species. To compound that startling bit of news, they had recently come across the knowledge for creating firearms, and while crude in nature, they were easily sufficient enough to give them an unnatural advantage over their rivals. All in all, it seemed that something was not right here on Sauria and the vixen intended to find out what that was exactly. Krystal walked towards a large metallic door and watched as it slid open easily, exposing a small chamber with a smaller array of machines that baffled even her vast intellect. It was more than alarming to find technology on this world that she could not comprehend. Sauria was a class-C planet, meaning that its locals had not yet discovered the secrets to metallurgy or the secret to harnessing energy. So a place like this should not be here, and yet it was. She walked among the strange machinery, speculating as to where its origins were derived from. Perhaps some race had set up this during the early years of this world's existence. But what race was responsible for that? With questions unanswered, she left the odd room and continued in her journey, passing through another series of doors and emerging once more on the outside of the citadel. By this time the rain had stopped and the skies had cleared to unveil the two small moons that orbited the planet. There soft light inundated the courtyard, revealing a large shadowy mass prostrated near the railing at the edge. It was one of the earthwalkers. Seeing the large noble saurian in their current state, the vixen rushed over to its side. She ran a paw across the dinosaur's flank, trailing across a dozen slashes and lacerations that leaked dark red arterial blood onto the floor. She raised her paw, seeing the thick and warm coating of blood staining it, and had to hold down the urge to vomit. She had never seen so much blood, and it affected her deeply. Her paws began to shake and she tried to take her attention away from the wounds and focus on the injured dino. It had two dangerous looking horns on its armored forehead and a third on its snout that was broken, split in half down the middle. The weapon that had done that was still lodged in the dinosaur's horn, an axe of some sort. The unfortunate creature was too far gone to help, and had been rendered unconscious by its injuries. She could feel the great beast's labored breathing as it gave its last breaths. She crawled over to its head and gently placed her paws on it, slowly humming a tune as she consoled it with long caring strokes across its bloodied snout. She serenaded the fallen warrior, and its breathing evened out, the melody easing its passing. Eventually, the great and noble saurian gave its last breathe and was still. Krystal rose up from her crouch near its head, tears tracking down her face. Its death had ripped the barely healed scars of her homeworld's annihilation, reminding her of what she had lost. Sniffling, she cleared her throat and wiped away her tears. She had to be strong, for herself and her lost family. It would be unconscionable to break down now after all she had been through. Krystal owed it to herself and her family to see this to the end, and perhaps then she could rest, but not a moment sooner. This had been a grisly message, up ahead, there were sure to be sharpclaw, the perpetrators of this heinous act. She would have to rely on all of her training and wit if she was going to survive this planet. Krystal whispered a farewell and prayer to the deceased saurian and took her staff off of her back. The cold azure metallic grip of the pole in her paws gave her comfort; this weapon had been passed down through her family for generations. And with it she would be able to face any challenge that might be pivoted against her. She turned to face the door that would lead deeper into the palace and hopefully towards the beacon that had summoned her. Then she could find out what it was exactly that needed to be fixed.
Six sighed in frustration for the thousandth time since the so called monitor arrived. All it did was lead them farther into the forerunner instillation and ramble on about things that he didn't give two shits about. He was a soldier; all he wanted to know was if he there was a communications room or starcharts that he could use to get in contact with the UNSC. He still had a fight to win, and he would like to know if he was still in it. "This instillation was created by the Didact after the interstellar war with their cre-" The monitor's rambling was interrupted when Six growled. "I just want to know where the communications center is, there is one here correct!?" He barked in annoyance as his frayed patience finally snapped. The monitor seemed unfazed by his outburst, as it responded. "Why yes of course, every instillation has a communications chamber." "Then take us there." Six ordered quietly, calming himself down. Warrior was silent for a moment. ".....Very well, follow me." The monitor flipped on its axis and switched corridors, traveling down one that led east, if the spartan's compass feature on his HUD read true. "Finally..." He muttered, turning to follow. Varn gave the spartan a serious look as he walked in step with him. 'It would be wise to not seek to anger the oracle; they have fearsome power at their disposal." Six scoffed at that, the little machine was far from intimidating and he doubted it had that much power to bear. "Yeah right, next you'll tell me they shoot lasers from their eyes." "Heed my words carefully spartan; do not play with powers you do not understand." At that, the blue armored human rounded onto the sangheili. All that repressed rage harbored for his entire life found an outlet. "Look...Varn; I have a duty to my people. And in order for me to do that, I need to get in contact with them. Now I don't know where the hell we are, or even if we are still in the same universe, but I WILL DO WHATEVER IT TAKES TO GET BACK!" He snarled at the elite, gauntlets closed into fists. "Don't forget, it was you're people that sought to destroy us!" "You may have a duty to your people, but so do I." Varn retorted. "I have given much, lost much, all in the effort to fulfill that obligation." Six surprised Varn, pushing him into a wall and wrapping a gauntlet around his throat. The spartan used his enhanced strength to lift the alien up, dragging his armor across the alloyed wall in a shower of sparks. "Loss...." The spartan hissed menacingly. Varn tried to make the spartan release his vice-like grip, desperately trying to pry the unforgiving gloved fingers off of his throat. But the spartan refused to budge an inch, instead leaning his helm to hover scant inches from the elite's jaws. "Because of you, I lost my homeworld when you burned it to ash...because of you I lost my family when you and your precious Covenant killed them...because of you I was turned into a monster and lost my innocence...because of you I LOST EVERYTHING!" The spartan bellowed into the sangheili's face. "You are the one who does not understand. The very reason you live is because I allowed it....out of some misplaced sense of decency I thought it would be wrong to kill you. Do not make me reconsider that." Six growled as he released his binding hold on Varn's throat, letting the sangheili fall to the ground. The spartan scoffed as he turned to walk away. "What would you know of loss?"
Varn's rage boiled and he almost activated his blade to run the spartan through. But for all that anger, he could not, because deep down inside, under his faith and conviction, he knew the spartan spoke truth. They burned human worlds, turning them into ash to cleanse them. They killed human families, because they were told they deserved to die. They sought to drive humanity to extinction as it was decreed by the prophets. But....why? Was it because they were indeed the heretics as the hierarchs decreed, or was it simply because they had been told to? It was true, very few sangheili demanded to know why it was that these humans truthfully needed to be silenced. All the prophets had to say was that they defiled holy relics and needed to be purged. And yet the irony in that was profound. For the hierarchs themselves had tampered with the holy relics long before the discovery of humanity, indeed they had gone to war with them over that fact. So what made it right for them to delegate that power? Varn found himself in a spiritual crisis, and there was no solution in sight. With a sigh, the sangheili rose back up to his cloven feet and moved to follow after the spartan, no longer intent on seeing him dead. He would allow him this one small victory.
Six turned away from the elite in disgust. That creature had the gall to tell him what loss was. He had done more, and given more than most of mankind would ever have to. He had sacrificed his future, his innocence; he had given all that he could besides his life, which was only a matter of time anyways. Varn, he could go home once it was all over, whether the war ended in a truce, ceasefire, defeat or victory. The alien had a home to go back to. Six had nothing. All he had to go on was his heritage. He could not see himself settling down, having a family, although at times he wished that was possible. He had heard marines telling stories to their fellows about the family they had waiting back home, their wives and husbands, daughters and sons, mothers and fathers. Six's mother and father were dead, he had no brothers or sisters, and no women would ever love him. He was...fundamentally, a broken man. War would always haunt him, the night terrors would never go away, nor would the memories. He had seen so many die, marines, ODSTs, civilians, even fellow spartans. Death would plague him; he would never escape its icy grasp. "I am detecting high levels of aggression and depression. Are you alright Reclaimer?" Six looked up to see the monitor hovering a few feet away to his right, chassis tilted to the side like a curious dog. "I'm fine." He responded. "That is a lie." Warrior refuted simply. "My scans indicate that you are suffering from a severe psychological syndrome in relation to rage, you should seek assistance as soon as possible." Six grunted. "Just get me to the communications chamber." "Will that cure your ailment?" Warrior inquired curiously. "It'll be a start." The spartan grumbled, rolling his shoulders. The monitor bobbed its alloy frame and increased its speed, and the spartan followed, giving a quick look to the sangheili. Varn was following at a farther distance than before, but it looked like he was still sticking around. He had a grim twist to his mandibles and walked in a hunch. Six disregarded him and turned away, it would take a while before he calmed down. The elite had snapped something inside him, something he had been holding back for a long time. Only time will tell if that was a good or bad thing. "Oh dear, Reclaimer, I am detecting indigenous lifeforms inside the communications center!" The monitor declared in alarm before zooming down the corridor at a higher speed. Six and Varn picked up the pace, keeping with the flying orb. The spartan did not like the sound of that. So far the locals seemed to be the bad sort. And if they trashed the comms center, that would leave them most likely stuck on this world. And that was something he did not want. "How did they get in?" Six demanded. "After the instillation was shut down, I left a small portion of the facility open, in case the species that the forerunners elevated developed far enough to access it. But they were not supposed to gain entry to the communications room. That is strictly off limits" it explained with a hint of irritation in its metallic voice. Six shook his helm in confusion. What did the monitor mean by elevated? And more importantly, why would they do that in the first place? To the spartan, it sounded like a poorly though out plan. As his boots thundered down the corridor, the spartan grabbed the pistol from his thigh and his kukri, placing them in the left and right gauntlet respectively. He was unwilling to take any sort of chance. If these were the same creatures as before, there would be no mercy.
Krystal yipped in fear as she threw herself to the floor, a sword hammering down to the ground where she had been standing seconds before. She rolled over quickly, sticking her staff up to let it catch an axe that had been destined for her throat. The impact numbed her paws and forced her farther into the unforgiving ground. The vixen knew that staying on the floor would spell her death and so she pounced back up to her feet and launched a fully powered swing to slam into the snout of one of the saurians. She felt the cartilage in the creature's nose give way under her staff and the sickening crunch almost caused her to heave up her breakfast. The saurian screeched in pain and stumbled backwards, clutching its ruined snout as blood trickled through its clawed hands. But before she could celebrate her meager victory, another beast announced its attack as it charged at her, club raised high in the air. She rotated the tip of her staff to face the attacker and a ball of flame roared out and exploded as it made contact with the sharpclaws chest. The fireball set the saurian aflame and it howled and fell to the floor, rolling in a futile effort to extinguish the flames. Krystal panted as she tried to recover, but did not get the chance as her sense picked up on imminent danger. She threw herself forwards roughly and whined in pain as she felt a hot lines crisscross her furred back. The vixen fell to the floor and turned herself around to see a large red saurian standing over her, holding a wicked curved sword in either hand. Around the large reptile, six other of its smaller kin were spread, all with dark grins. As it looked down at her with yellow eyes, it brought the bloodied sword up to its reptilian snout and dragged its forked tongue across the blade, a sinister grin painted across its features. The monster obviously planned on making her suffer. Krystal whimpered fearfully as she gazed up at her soon to be killer. The attack had come as a surprise to her and only her quick thinking and powers had saved her from a sudden death. The vixen had walked into a large room filled with strange devices and bright lights. Inside, three other earthwalkers were sprawled on the black ground, hacked apart in a gruesome display of knifework. As she began to register this, her sense kicked in and she ducked, avoiding a slug aimed for her head. After that, several sharpclaw had swarmed out from their hiding places, behind the butchered corpses of the earthwalkers and the machines that littered the room. She had fought as hard as she could, but it became obvious pretty soon that she was not experienced enough to take on so many. There brutality and ruthlessness had shocked and horrified the vixen, who could didn't understand that there was such a thing as true evil in the universe. She had been raised on a peace loving and noble world. That made her ill-suited to face the harsh realities found abroad. Her back burned hot like a furnace and brought tears to her eyes. And with those tears, fear followed. She didn't want to die, especially at the hands of beasts like these. She wanted to live a full life, find love, and start a family. This was not what she had envisioned when she set out on her journey. The massive red reptile raised its blades; a menacing guttural chuckle erupted out of its throat. As the weapons of her demise began their seemingly unstoppable rise, she whimpered and closed her eyes, unwilling to see her end. She instead filled her thoughts with her family and past. But the blades never fell, at least not in the way expected. Four thundering booms deafened the chamber and triggered her to shoot her emerald eyes open in surprise. Four of the smaller sharpclaws fell to the ground, blood seeping out of neat circular holes in their heads. Seconds later, she heard the a howl of pain and saw that a small sword had impaled the seven foot beast, the hilt sticking out of the center of its torso. Following that, an equally tall blue and white blur collided with the saurian, slamming into it with enough force to send it hurtling to the floor. The figure caught both of the curved swords from the air and brought them down hard, impaling both of them into the saurian's abdomen and ripping them out savagely. Blood sprayed from the gory kill and splattered across the chamber. The tall blue and white entity stood up from the dead reptile and looked to its left, where a silvery armored creature emerged, bellowing a war cry. At first, the disoriented vixen, also suffering from blood loss, though it was going to attack it, but instead it rushed over to the two surviving saurians, a blue-white blade of light igniting from its fist. Faster than she could see the reptilian cut down the two sharpclaw contemptuously; afterwards it turned off its blade and walked away. The hollow thump of footfalls grabbed her attention and the wounded vixen turned her head to see the first figure that had emerged. Her vision was a little fuzzy but she could still make out that it was encased in deep blue armor, with white runes etched across it. Where she could have seen a face, a stark black visor concealed it from view. The armored figure crouched down beside her, blank visor studying her, almost curiously. Eventually, her wounds and the series of shocks to her system did her a favor, easing her into the worriless ease of unconsciousness.