Desperate Times-A Post-Halo 3 Fanfic

*Prologue

11th of October, 2553

UNSCDF HighCom, Russia

Earth

The frigid wind whipped across the frozen plain. The sun was a veiled disc in the sky. Standing atop the duracrete-and-metal watch tower, Private Horatio Zerba squinted at the distant eastern horizon. Clouds, grey as the tower they stood upon, crowded the aforementioned horizon, making it a blurred line. From the pouch at his belt, he withdrew a powerful monocular. More of the split-chins new-fangled technology. Sticks in my gut, using it. Placing it to his right eye, he sighted along the horizon. Nothing in the middle of nowhere.

Horatio sighed, the sound barely audible over the sound of the howling wind. This damn winter was choking the life from this land. The by-product of something the UNSC hadn't foreseen. The Elites' partial glassing of Voi months ago had triggered a climate change in-of all places-Russia. As a result, everything was frozen.

Well, I'll admit we needed their help at the time. But now? The bastards have been squatting on their homeworld, while things fall to pieces here. The Sarge isn't interested in my opinions, but fuck me…

Horatio didn't care that the Elites had helped them defeat the Covenant, or to stop the Flood infection. The bastards had burned Madrigal to cinders, along with his family and friends. Hell, the only reason he'd signed up was to kill Elites. Now they were allied with them.

A month ago, a Sangheili corvette had arrived with a message. The Arbiter and the Shipmaster had finished whatever they had been doing on their planet. A delegation was on its way, to thrash things out with the top brass. They were expected on this day.

Since the old HighCom building was in ruins, a new one was commissioned. The best engineers in the military were hauled off all their duty posts to construct this place. So far they had managed to get the main building, air pad and outer defenses done. Anything else was hoping for just too much. Even the squad's saboteur, Private Xavier, had been pressed into service.

Now that's a joke. Unless it comes to explosives, Xav's bloody clueless. And why Lord Hood pulled our squad all the way from Micronesia is beyond me. So we're all veterans-big deal.

A clank behind him. Horatio turned, to see the his squad's corporal and point man, Len, pulling himself up the ladder. A sardonic guy, Len never missed an opportunity to get one over his teammates. But he was a loyal member of the squad, and had saved everyone's ass on more than one occasion.

Len's breath plumed in the cold air as he faced the east. Scratching a razor-cut sideburn, he said, "Having fun?"

Horatio's expression soured through his ski mask. "You tell me, Len. I've been stuck up here for six hours freezing my nuts off while you and the rest are sitting around in the barracks jacking off."

"Takes one to know one, douchebag."

Horatio grunted a laugh and gave Len a playful shove. After a few moments the pair returned to their contemplation of the icy wastes. Eventually, Horatio asked, "So, any idea what Hood and the rest are up to?"

Len shook his head. "Nup. Cloak and dagger stuff with ONI, I'd imagine."

Horatio exhaled noisily. "Well, at least when this is over, we can head out of this one big cryo bay. Back to where it's warm."

"Wouldn't be too sure about that, if I were you."

Horatio faced him. "So you do know something!"

Len grinned and tapped the side of his nose. "Trade secret, buddy of mine. You'll just have to wait your turn."

"Screw you, "said Horatio irritably.

Len cackled and made his way over to the ladder. "That's "screw you Corporal" to you, Private…"

Horatio returned his attention to the east, only to see a purplish glow through the iron-coloured clouds. The thrum of an anti-gravity generator could be heard. Horatio stared in awe as the massive bulk of the feared Sangheili flagship, Shadow of Intent, dropped through the sky towards the ground. The rumble of its engines shook the tower on which Horatio was standing. Grabbing a nearby beam for support, he watched as the colossal ship settled into a steady hovering position. From its hangar bay doors, he saw a Spirit dropship emerge and fly towards the complex.

They decided to finally show up. Horatio ran over to the ladder and hastily made his way to the ground. Running over to the field where the barracks was situated, he got to the doors of the squat, hastily erected building and flung them open.

Inside was one big room. Steel cots, most of them unoccupied, were positioned along each wall. A few heating units had been attached to the roof, with tangles of multicolored cables hanging off them like a carpet of vines. The few soldiers that were here lay around, staring at the ceiling or cleaning their weapons. Horatio found his squad down the far end.

Apart from himself and Len, there were four others in his squad-Terry, Ollie, Xavier and their sergeant, Kyle. Terry was the official stealth and scouting man-the guy could find a way to disappear in the middle of a bare plain, and when they had fought the Covenant, they had learned the hard way. No less than fifteen Brutes had died at his hands.

Ollie was the tech specialist. A former cryptology expert, he had joined the Marines because his skills were so vital to the war effort. He was as good as any AI, and was handy with the SMG, his weapon of choice.

Xavier wasn't present, but had a near-magical ability when it came to ordnance. His greatest achievement, as he so often boasted, was setting off ten kilograms of C-12 on a Covenant power plant on Jericho VII and eliminating an entire battalion of Hunters. Not the brightest guy, but brains weren't a huge requirement in his occupation. He was close friends with Terry, whom he'd known from childhood.

Last was Kyle. Grizzled and gruff, he nonetheless had a steadfast devotion to his men. A former company commander, he had been busted down early in the war when he'd removed a general from his command in order to save the lives of a platoon of marines who were pinned down by Covenant air assault. Several other officers had vouched for him, but to no avail. Still, he looked after his men.

So we have experts in just about every field. And where do I fit in? No, Horatio, don't think that way. Clearing his throat, Horatio said, "Sarge, the Elites' cruiser has just arrived. Delegates are on their way."

Kyle grunted. "About time. Alright, ladies, grab your gear. We have an appointment with some aliens." Shouldering his battle rifle, he rose and headed for the door. His men followed him.

Other people had been alerted-at the makeshift airfield, landing lights were being activated by technicians, halogen beams lancing into the air. A large red X painted the landing site. The Spirit dropship hovered overhead, its blue stasis field rippling between the "prongs".

Len was waiting for them, standing off to one side. As Kyle and the rest arrived, he remarked, "We might want to step back, Sarge. It's gonna need more room."

The squad collectively stepped back, as the troop ship made its landing. The engines hum faded away. The side doors of the aircraft opened.

Out stepped eight Elites-three were garbed in golden armour, a sign of high rank-they were most likely Shipmasters or Field Masters. Three others were SpecOps soldiers, their matte black combat harnesses glistening.

The other two were the Arbiter and R'tas Vadum, the chief Shipmaster.

Horatio had only seen the Arbiter once, during combat in Voi and from a distance. Yet from what little he could recall of his appearance, little had changed. Amber eyes glinted through the eye-holes in his armour, filled with anticipation. He still wore the same armour-it was covered in dents, stains and scratches. Evidently he had been in fighting recently. When he could have been helping us.

R'tas Vadum, however, had changed his armour. It was a burnished orange, with white trimming. Atop his triangular head, he wore a silver headdress. Unlike the Arbiter, who was unarmed, he carried an energy sword at his side. The golden Elites were similarly armed. They were still wary of the unexpected, it seemed.

From behind Horatio, a procession was approaching. At its head was Lord Hood. Age was taking its toll on him, but he retained his old vigor, with a sharp gleam in his eyes. He was dressed in his old Navy dress uniform. His retinue consisted of the Marine generals and Navy captains that remained.

Hood strode up to the Elites. He withdrew a hand. "Arbiter, Shipmaster. Welcome back to Earth. Good to have you. I trust you're well."

Arbiter shook the hand firmly. "Well met, Lord Hood. Forgive our lack of assistance in relief efforts, we have been busy policing Sangheilios and the surrounding systems from Jiralhanae incursions. Know now that we will send regular aid."

Lord Hood nodded, pleased. "That's good to hear. Shipmaster, how have things been on the home front? Have our reinforcements been of use?"

R'tas' slitted eyes went to Hood's face. "Manageable. The Jiralhanae are like the L'upe cattle of our world-simpleminded and lacking initiative. Without their Prophets, they are no significant threat. In truth, your ships are not needed. Feel free to keep them where they are needed. That will change, however, when he strike deeper into their territories."

Hood nodded a second time. "Well, we can discuss all that and more in due time. Follow me to the main building." Hood turned and walked towards the huge structure that was the main building of HighCom. The respective retinues followed him.

Horatio couldn't help but show open hostility as the Elites passed by. One of the SpecOps Elites half-turned to him as he passed. Horatio stared straight back at the Elite. A few moments passed, then the Elite's mandibles broke apart in a wide grin. "Until later, human." The Elite ambled off.

Horatio turned to his squadmates, all of whom were grinning. "What's so funny?" he demanded.

Ollie snorted his laughter. "Dude, you shat your pants when that alien looked you over. You should have seen your face."

"Oh, I don't think he was scared, " Len chimed in.

Horatio grunted. "Thanks Len…."

"I'd say he was in love."

Horatio thumped Len on the shoulder. "Shut up man."

Len continued unabated. "Saw something you liked, eh Hor? Thinking of asking him out? Heard the Caribbean's pretty good this time of year…"

"I told you, shut up!"

'Enough, " growled Kyle. "This ain't a mother's group. Terry, it's your shift on the watchtower. Grab some rations and haul ass."

"Aw, Sarge…"

"That's an order, Private!" Kyle's voice could cow a lion into submission when he got ticked off.

Terry grumbled sullenly. "Don't see what the point is, the Elites have arrived, what the hell am I up there for?"

"I swear to God, Terry, you don't shut your yap I'll shove a plasma grenade down it. Go."

Still grumbling, Terry slunk off.

Kyle turned to the others. 'Rest of you get some sleep. We'll be moving out at dawn."

"What for?" Len asked.

"None of your business, corporal." The sergeant stalked off towards the main building.

Ollie and Len headed off to the barracks. Horatio followed them, but his mind was not on the subject of getting rest. The Elites were in discussions regarding peacekeeping. So far, expeditions to retake Covenant-held worlds had been in theory only. Yet now, something was definitely going on.

The Elite's comment worried him. Just how closely were the humans and Elites going to be working together?

No idea, but I can tell the answer ain't gonna be good.