Isolation

Chapter I: Solitary Confinement

Authors Note: Well, this is my first real crack at Halo and Star Wars crossover. It's still a work in progress, I'm just kind of taking it one step at time. So I hope my attempt will end crafting a great fan fiction story.

Both fatigue and stress, when elevated enough, can bring any sentient being to its breaking point. Mix the two together, and you get a powerful remedy that would make the body want to shut down and simply die. That's what the young rebel, Zerrid Ryen, felt like doing, shutting down and dying. The simplicity of it was all to mind melding and beautiful. Yet, life wasn't about what you wanted, or how to make it easy on yourself. At least that's what Zerrid kept thinking to stop himself from having a complete meltdown in the Alliance's command center. Which in turn was bustling with bodies of all assorts going to and from. Carrying out tasks of all kinds varying in importance of small to large. Zerrid knew he was tired, he could feel his face sag down from the lack of sleep. In the past twenty-four hours, he had received a total of three hours and twenty six minutes of sleep, give or take a few minutes. Stimulants had become his best friend by keeping him awake while he performed his duties. If he wasn't injecting another stimulant into himself, then he was at work or trying to get a few minutes of sleep. The lives of everyone on this planet demanded it of him.

The Empire was right on top of them, literally. He had reports filing in of hostile engagements on all fronts. Rebel forces had actively engaged the imperial storm troopers that had come for revenge on them for the destruction of the death star. Zerrid knew the rebel fighters could delay the storm troopers, but not stop them. The enemy had come in waves of troops, and with no way of being able to get reinforcements; it was only a matter of time before they were all dead due to the imperial blockade around Yavin 4. And because of this, time was something of which they didn't have a lot of. General Jan Dodonna had called in the order of planet wide evacuation. It had been declared several days ago, but there was so much to do. Trying to evacuate an entire planet within days was consuming all of their resources.

Zerrid shook his head accidentally breaking his train of thought. He needed to concentrate, keep his mind on his duties. His duty was to dispatch several units and squads of Alliance troops to key areas and provide intelligence to them. Zerrid also took on the task of surveying enemy troop deployment. Everyone was doubling up on responsibilities, including him. Trying to shift in his seat, his earpiece blared to life with static, and then he heard a human voice.

"Dispatch!" The voice cried out. Zerrid could hear blaster fire in the background. "This is Delta-One-Two, we have hostiles at checkpoint one!"

Zerrid moved his hands so fluidly onto the holo-screen in front of him. Tapping in rapid commands, his scanner pinpointed Delta-One-Two's location. Life signs flashed before his eyes as he continued to analyze the data in the blink of an eye. Adjusting his earpiece, he spoke crisply and smoothly as if there was no possibility of the other man on the line could die at any moment.

"Delta-One-Two, I have you on radar. Your defenses are being probed, and that is just a scout team. The scans show a larger force moving in. Flanking teams inbound with a squadron of troopers moving up the middle. I'm diverting nearby units to your location."

"Thanks Dispatch. Delta-One-Two out."

Zerrid didn't respond. He didn't have the time. After the communication link was severed, he checked the holo-screen for the rebel force deployment. Zerrid's cold, steel blue eyes darted around the display checking the statuses of other units nearby Delta-One-Two's position.

"Alpha-One-Six, this is dispatch. Delta-One-Two has several squadrons of storm troopers moving in on checkpoint one. Move to their position to lend a hand, over."

Static crackled in his ear. "We copy dispatch. Alpha-One-Six moving to support, over."

Zerrid rubbed the stubble on his face; his thoughts now back to himself. "Hopefully that'll buy them some time."

The object wasn't to win, it was to hold out as long as possible. They still had a lot of personnel that needed to be transported. Including himself, but he wouldn't abandoned these men, if they were out there risking their lives, then he would do the same for them.

Reaching into his pocket for another stimulant, but his holo-screen grew an angry red as a small message blipped onto the top corner of his screen. Zerrid's hand fiddled around with the stimulant as he ripped his hand out of his pocket, adrenaline pumping through his veins. His fingers drifted across the display, trying to figure out what the alarm was. Every time he accessed the alarm to find out the source of the problem, he got 'unidentified error'. Zerrid gritted his teeth in frustration. He'd have to go through scanners and systems manually to try and detect the quandary. What in reality was only thirty seconds, felt like several minutes. But the thirty seconds to find the problem, was nerve wrecking. He needed the stimulant bad, but it had to wait. Eyes glued to the holo-screen as he absorbed the data being fed. Sensors were picking up something, but from the data, the conclusion didn't make sense.

The screen was telling him something rather large was coming out of what seemed to be hyper-space. But common knowledge and reality was telling him different. When a ship entered hyper-space, it basically left this plane of reality. Breaking past faster than the speed of light's threshold, it was almost impossible to track, or even communicate with a ship in hyper-space, mainly because it didn't exist, in a sense. The only way to even communicate with a ship in hyper-space was to communicate indirectly. The ship couldn't pick up direct signals, but it could pick up weak signals that crossed its path during hyper travel, but it wasn't a normal comm signal, but a hypercomm. But even then it wasn't a proper means of communication, the messages always ended up distorted and corrupted to almost being useless. But, it didn't mean ships in hyper-space were impossible to tell when they entered or leaving hyper-space. Whenever a vessel entered or exited hyper space and was on an axis perpendicular to the real space's vector the hyper drive emitted a vigorous, but short burst of Cronau radiation.

The difficulty with this was, a sensor had picked up something supposedly dropping out of 'hyperspace'. However, when he scanned for Cronau radiation, the readings came back negative for it. This meant, the sensor had locked in on something resembling close to hyper space travel. Something that discharged a burst of signals like Cronau radiation. Zerrid continued to reevaluate his findings, refusing to believe what he was seeing, thinking it must be the sensor going haywire. Zerrid had also ruled out light speed travel, which sensors would detect, and let him know it was light speed, not hyper-speed. His brain was nonetheless boggled. Zerrid couldn't explain, and didn't have time. From what his figures were telling him, the ship would be dropping right into orbit on a high speed approach vector.

Whatsoever, he had managed to shed some light on this phenomenon. The vessel on advance was moving faster than the speed of light but slower than hyper-speed. He frowned, his humor tightly sealed away. It made him more stressed he couldn't figure this out. He cued his earpiece on a direct line to General Dodonna.

"General, this is Zerrid Ryen. We have a problem."

"What sort of problem are you talking about?" The husky voice of the aging man retorted.

Zerrid swallowed the knot in his throat; he wasn't exactly sure how to explain the happening. "Sensors in orbit picked up something."

Static lingered for another second. "Imperial reinforcements? Ships inbound to hassle us more?"

"Negative, I don't think it's imperial. It's very odd, sir." Zerrid spat out, he could already feel a lashing on his way.

"Please elaborate."

Zerrid's frown only grew in size. He could tell Dodonna wasn't all too pleased. "Sensors said a vessel was dropping out of hyper-space soon. But when I checked for Cronau radiation to isolate its incoming vector, I got nothing for Cronau."

Silence met his ear, which made him curdle in anticipation. The silence seemed worse than getting a verbal lashing. "Have you verified it's not light speed either?"

"Affirmative. Sensors show nothing matching speed of light. Whatever the vessel is, it's moving faster than light speed, but slower than hyper-speed."

"You're absolutely sure about this? Can you tell me its drop point? How long do we have?"

Zerrid didn't have the exact answer of what was going on, but he did have those answers. "Yes, I'm positive, sir. I was still able to get its drop out point. Baring zero-three-four, right into our orbit. It's coming out in ten seconds."

"Can you get a visual on it?"

Zerrid was already on it. He pumped more adrenaline into himself diminishing the fatigue. Locking onto the nearest sensor, he took manual control of it. Rerouting systems to turn on its visuals and reposition its view to where the vessel was to appear. Typing in more commands, he sent the visual over the general. Zerrid rubbed his neck, nerves rubbed against one another as the final seconds slowly counted down.

Three…

Two..

One.

Then it happened. Zerrid was in awe as he watched a vessel appear before his eyes. The foreign object just peeled into his vision. Exiting whatever method of travel it used, it was similar to hyper-space. Space itself seemed to bend and open a portal beyond human comprehension. The inky darkness was discolored and warped to a blinding white. Then a grey color peeled in by strips, as if someone was drawing it in faster than the human or any species eye could keep up with. When the vessel was fully visible, it was less than what Zerrid had imagined. The ship resembled an Imperial-class star destroyer, only in shape. It was nothing in comparison to the star destroyer in size. The ship was still vastly large compared to other war ships known, but that was just it. He didn't recognize the design of the ship at all. Having the sensor probe it, it concluded what Zerrid already knew. It matched no galactic design or pattern.

"General, are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Zerrid spoke into his comm. He knew the general was seeing it; he just wanted to confirm if he understood what he saw as well. Zerrid was no judge, but the anonymous craft was torn and beat to hell. Battle scars ran across the exterior hull. His eye pointed out what looked like scorch marks from extreme heat, and even one burn mark stretching across the hull. Even without being familiar with the craft, he could tell it had seen extensive combat. If it looked this wrecked and tattered on the outside, he could only envision what the inside looked like.

"I am. It's in one hell of a condition. Is it showing any signs of activity?"

Zerrid halted for a moment, activating the sensors once more. The ship was showing several hundred, if not close to one-thousand life signs. Zerrid assumed the ship had a much bigger crew, but had suffered heavy casualties. As he continued to read the ship, he watched as several pods jettison from the side of the ship, and more continued to abandon the ship as it started to near Yavin's atmosphere.

"Sir, scans show close to one-thousand if not more life forms on the ship. Seems they have escapes pods going off from the ship. Also, the craft is entering Yavin's atmosphere, it'll be crashing into the surface."

He could hear Dodonna grumble on the other line. "Son, I need you to find out where those life pods will be crashing, and divert teams to get them. We'll have to leave the ship, we don't have the man power to search it or fight over it either. Scan the ship for as much information as you can. Just make sure we get the life pods. Dodonna out."

Zerrid gave his confirmation, and sent out the orders. Knowing full well that diverting teams would cause the defense to falter even more, but with this new event, maybe the Empire would pull back the main strike force. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he could feel hit gut start to twist and knot up. He didn't get this feeling often, but when it did, it was bad. Something was occurring in the galaxy, and Zerrid Ryen wasn't sure if it was for better or worse.

5

Pain surged throughout his body. Bones burned as if they had been set on fire. Every inch of his being screamed to just end it all now. To find some means to escape the ensuing agony. Breathing alone made him wreath in pain, which caused his sore muscles on his face to tense and throb even more. It seemed like hours past as he felt liquid trickle down his face and drip from his chin. Senses started to slowly return to him as he could taste warm, metallic liquid in his mouth. Neck muscles twitched as he tried to move. His movement was more on survival instinct, than his actual thoughts, as a shroud of grogginess clouded his mind. Fingers convulsed and jolted, waves of intense pain continued to ripple his body.

The cloud in his mind seemed to disperse more and more as time went on. He could feel globs of spit and blood exit his mouth as he coughed. Deep breathes ravished his lungs as it became harder to breath, feeling a sense of urgent danger and death creeping upon him. Broken and bruised ribs seem to mend together a collage of inhuman aches and tenderness that caused the man to groan. Eyelids started to crack open, only to be forced shut by his body telling him to shut down and let death's sweet embrace swallow him. The man had never been much to lie down and die. Grunting, he ripped his eyelids open and kept them open.

A sting formed in his eyeballs, his surroundings blurred and seemed to shift out of reality as his eyes shifted. Focusing, the environment fit itself back together like a puzzle. The cloud of distortion faded from his brain as it registered to what his eyes saw. His knees and legs that were covered in fatigues and armor: the cameo green of his military and dark black boots. He blinked and shook his head as his eyes stung more once he allowed them to open again. He lifted his head, absorbing more of his surroundings. He was in a small pod; a clash of bland gray enveloped him. Then he noticed the bodies. None of them moving, not even making a sound.

His senses screamed at him to help them, to see if they were still alive. He try to get up, but jerked back into his seat, a harness keeping him bound to the seat. He lifted his right bleeding arm, but not before the air in his lungs was pushed out from the pain. He clicked down on the button, and yet nothing happened. The harness had twisted its frame and now had him trapped with the thick straps holding him down. His eyes scanned his body, looking for something that might be of use to help free him. He came up empty.

Blood endlessly dribbled from his chin, and a pounding headache started to form in his head. So many thoughts ran through his mind all in a matter of seconds. Where was he? What had happened? How were the occupants around him? How was he going to unbind himself? Hell, he couldn't even remember his own name for the time being so much was on his mind. Turning his head to the left he found himself making contact with the back of a seat at the tip of the pod. Another motionless body drooped over a console, concealing it from him guessing what he was exactly in. Swinging his aching neck to the right, he found a frozen body sitting next to him, limp as the others. Growling in agony, he lifted his ever bleeding arm, and placed his cut and dirtied fingers on the man's neck. There was no pulse.

Sighing, he looked down the corpse, noticing the fatigues and armor, a memory deluged into him. The UNSC, a military power, well not so much of a power as it once was, but it was regaining strength from the Human-Covenant War. The UNSC also happened to be his current employer, but he had to figure out one thing at a time, or so he kept telling himself. Scanning the body, he found the key to his survival, a combat knife. Grasping the hilt, he ripped the weapon from its holding place.

Taking the hilt, he placed the blade on the first strap, and took his other hand and held the strap away from his body so he didn't cut himself. The blade grinded against the strap, the material cut away slowly and surely, until it broke. He then repeated the process until he had liberated himself from the harness. Gritting his teeth, he forced his tendons and muscles to work as one and allow him to stand. His legs felt like jelly as the world rushed around him. Bracing himself with the palm of his hand on the opposite wall above another man, he released vomit from his mouth, littering the wall, the floor and the bodies around him with the contents of his stomach.

An additional urge to vomit ran through his throat, only to be forced down by what little will power he had left in his battered body. Dropping the knife, he wobbled from side to side, and he ran through the bodies in the pod, checking each one's pulse. Everyone else was now deceased, and hoped they enjoyed the eternal peace he hoped they will have. Pushing his legs forward, each step more and more painful, he reached the door blocking his path. It slid open automatically, exhaling in relief, taking the small miracle. He just didn't think he'd have the strength to manually open and pry the door open.

Stumbling outside, his eyes burned and were blinded by a ray of sunlight that sent him tripping over his feet and meeting the ground face first. The man laid there, unmoving, his brain pumping and trying to process information as fast it could in his weaken state. He felt so lost, and the lost feeling felt so unfamiliar to him. He searched his brain, racking through piles of distorted information. It was like he had disorganized file cabinets, and paper work and files had been scattered on the office floor.

The corpses of the men in the pod flashed in his mind, reminding him of the UNSC. He looked down his body, trying to find something to rejuvenate his memory. His vision locked in on some writing on his right side of his armor, a nametag. It read Templar. Then it felt like he had been smacked with a brick of memories as a once dead light bulb flickered to life above his head. He was first Lieutenant Asher Adam Templar, age twenty-nine, UNSC Marine Corp, second in command on the UNSC Destroyer the Lithium. The Lithium was built just at the end of the Human-Covenant War, and was deployed with a small task force to accompany re-colonization vessels for protection against the remnant of the Covenant. Asher was second in command of the destroyer's marine force on the vessel, the first in command being Major Jack Frees. But even he wasn't in full command of the ship, Captain Hawthorn had that privilege.

But none of that explained why he woke in a pod, full of dead marines, and why he couldn't remember anything. Possibly he had some head trauma, concussion that knocked some screws loose in his head. Asher grunted and he formed a push up, and sat up on his knees, taking in some fresh air, still aching like he had been sent to crawl through barbwire. He could tell that he had some broken ribs, bone bruising, head trauma, and who knows what else, he didn't think he had internal bleeding, but he was no doctor. Even then, he could be like the men inside the pod, dead. So he counted himself lucky in a horrible situation.

Soaking in his environment, it was a heavy forest-like area mixed with some jungle-like elements as well. He didn't recognize anything, nothing that could indicate what planet he was on, or if he was near any major UNSC outpost or even civilization. Rotating his torso around, he examined the pod he had exited, a bumblebee life pod, standard for UNSC ships in case of a hasty evacuation. Which is what seems was needed since he was in these horrid circumstances.

Asher needed to be on his toes, he had to assume he was in a hostile situation. With no recollection of recent events, Asher let himself think they had been attacked, and the ship was destroyed and abandoned. Using his left hand, he wiped it over his face, feeling thick liquid smear across his face. Every fiber of his body still wanted to just quit, his energy felt like it was in its reserves, every man had his limits, but he wasn't going to just lie down and die. Hell, he had been through a war that wiped out most of humanity, he wasn't going to let starvation or the elements kill him off. Straggling to his weary feet, and he went back into the pod, knowing full well there wouldn't be much, but he would need everything he can muster.

Entering the bumblebee life pod, he checked every body over again to make sure they were absolutely dead. He frowned, grabbing his side as ribs rubbed against his skin, making him bite his lip in frustration. Asher went over every corpse, checking them for anything useful, and grabbing each one's dog tags. He knew every dead marine in this lifeless husk, his heart twanged in knowing he'll never be able to talk to these men again.

His search came up with nothing. No useable weapons, the ones he did find had been damaged so badly in the crash that they would provide no use. Ammunition he had found had been inadequate due to the fact none of the weapons would work. Asher even checked the helmets of every marine, to see if they had a working communication device, but his luck was running dry. Moving his way up to the pilot, he lifted the shambled corpse off the control console, seeing the neck twisted at an awkward angle. He wiped his forehead with his forearm, his skin coming into contact with blood and sweat that had begun to dry because of the heat. Licking his ever dry lips, he cursed to himself as sparks danced across the life pod's dash, all controls and communications in a hectic frenzy. Stepping back, he stumbled over to the exit, and opened a hatch off a locker on the side; the only thing of use inside was a small medical kit.

As he grabbed it and stepped back out into the sunlight, he found himself looking at a bunch of trees, and it seemed that luck had acted upon itself to not allow the escape pod to crash into a tree and blow up on its decent. Asher ran his tongue across his bloodied teeth as he rummaged through the medical kit. Finding some biofoam and therapeutic wrap, he quickly ran through his cuts and small wounds, stopping the bleeding on his arms, and a gash on his forehead, though the work was sloppy, it'd do until he saw real medical attention.

Now for the even harder part, which direction should he go? He had no clue on what to do next. No orders, no radio contact, and no one to talk with to help decide a game plan, he was all alone on this world. Asher would have to take on his gut feeling and pick a direction, and hope for the best. But the best wasn't possible for him. Instinct kicked in, lifting the hair on his arm. He heard a twig snap and some ruffling outside the clearing. He wasn't alone. Asher cursed under his breath. He had to play this carefully. Asher felt eyes glued on him, it wasn't good. Having no visuals on his watchers, he didn't know how many. Maybe it was one, or maybe it was an entire squad. Thinking for a moment, he thought of his options.

He could try and run, but whoever was watching him, wouldn't allow that to happen. They might just panic and shoot him, kill him if he tried to run. With no weapon to defend himself, and not knowing where to go; Asher did the only logical choice that came to mind.

He raised his hands up into the hair very casually. The marine showed no sign of aggression, not wanting to piss off whoever was watching him, or think he was tricking them. He needed to be very nonchalant about the situation. As on cue, camouflaged men approached from behind the trees, encircling him one-hundred-eighty degrees, anomalous looking weapons designated on him. He wasn't familiar with the green woodland like armor and fatigues they wore, but it did resemble his own army green armor. Possibly insurgents, the UNSC did have a problem with them every now and then. Though a feeling was saying it was something much, much more.

The unknown men moved in on him, keeping the alien weapons trained on him. Maintaining his hands in the air, Asher observed the men some more, putting on a slight smile.

"I surrender."

Darth Vader felt a ripple in the force as he cut down a rebel soldier who had the brave courage to try and kill him up close. His white armored storm troopers rushed past him, pursing the retreating Alliance soldiers. Vader slowed his heavy breathing and focused in on the swell of the force. At first it was weak and faint, then it grew very rapidly. It was as if he had been stepped on by a Rancor. The dark lord couldn't really believe it, something very powerful was headed this way. He couldn't tell what, the force he was detecting was so exotic to him, it was something he had never felt in this galaxy before. Reaching out further into the force, trying to find the source of the undulation. Not even a sweat formed under his helmet, Vader knew his power had no bounds. Only to the extent that he wished for.

Locking onto the ripple, Vader turned and looked towards the sky. That's were his eyes wandered to, following the mystical current of the force. The sith couldn't see anything, maybe from it being hidden behind the clouds, or past his range of sight. Though he could feel it. Like it was converging towards him, coming closer and closer with every second. Drawing ever closer, Vader kept like always; emotionless. A vibration went off in his inner pockets of his suit. Decisively, he pulled out the Holo-pad that had been going off. No doubt he was about to receive some information from his the admiral at the blockade.

"Lord Vader," The human bowed slightly. The imperial naval uniform crinkled somewhat during it's motion.

"Admiral Griff, I sensed a disturbance in the force. I presume you are here to shed some light on the manor?"

Amise Griff nodded, his black hair jerked around. "Yes my lord. Our sensors had picked up an anomaly not to long ago. Saying it picked up a ship about to drop out of hyper-space. But we detected nothing to confirm the use of a hyper-drive. During our a test, a ship of unknown origins appeared from what seemed to be hyper-space."

"Unknown origin?" Vader thought about questioning his admiral. But some in the force told him he was telling the truth.

"Yes, we have no data on it. We're running more preliminary scans on it. But it has also just launched several dozen escape pods. We even see several other pods jettisoning out from the ship, according to the life signs, those pods are single manned. We have other confirmed reports of docked ships powering up in it's bay. But everyone is abandoning ship, it's crashing into the planet."

Vader remained silent, even with the sounds of war and destruction raging around him. The admiral spoke once again more nervously. "What course of action would you like to do, my lord?"

Replying with no emotion, he gave out his precise orders. "Find out the crash coordinates of the ship, and have a vessel pick me up with my personal escort. I shall check out the ship, send squadrons after the escape pods and the areas of the smaller pods. But continue to push the rebel forces, admiral."

The admiral bowed once more, and Vader cut the communications. Something was about to occur in this galaxy. He could feel it in his metal bones. Turning, Vader went off to go meet his ship en route to receive him.

Authors Note: Well, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Review, leave feedback, it's all appreciated. As I said it's still a work in progress, I'm taking each chapter one at a time. I'll try to update soon, so until next time!