Halo 3—Battlefield
January 23rd, 2557, York, Ireland
It was supposed to be a reconnaissance mission. A quick dip into Jiralhanae territory, a survey, and then a drive back to base.
Instead, Master Chief/Spartan-117/John was fighting, all alone, against hundreds.
The Jiralhanae, or Brutes as they were called by the humans, were the second-in-command of the alien operation. In control was one of the San'Shyuum, or Prophets.
Under them were the Yanme'e, or Drones, the Kig'Yar, or Jackals, the Unggoy, or Grunts, and the Lekgolo, or Hunters.
Prophets were physically frail beings, relying on their agile, nimble, and cunning minds, as well as the force of others, to get them out of sticky situations.
The Brutes were gorilla-like beings with a distinctive hierarchy of soldiers, captains, and chieftains. Vicious, unpredictable, and often cocky, the Brutes were the first to charge into the thick of battle—and, in this case, the first to die.
Directly under them were the Hunters. These were actually beings composed of thousands of eel-like creatures held together by a united effort. They carried massive shields and plasma cannons. They only worked in pairs.
Under them were the Drones, insect-like aliens that flew. They moved erratically, making it very hard to kill them. They viewed the Prophets as their "Queen," obviously reminiscent of their true insect nature.
One step lower in the command line were the Jackals, the snipers and scouts of the united alien forces. Physically diminutive and weak, they carried portable shields that deflected all manner of projectiles. However, after sustained fire from alien plasma weapons, the shield failed, leaving the Jackal open to an easy finishing shot or, for the ammunition-conservative, a rifle butt to the head.
The lowest and most pitiful of the alien fighting forces were the Grunts. Although mostly brave and disciplined and even occasionally vicious and deadly, their mental strength relied on the continued life of their leaders; kill the nearest Brute or Hunter, and they scattered for cover. Though popular belief discounted them as weak, lately reports have recorded "heroic" Grunts strapping grenades to themselves and running at the nearest human.
The Master Chief, John, had to kill dozens of each.
He had been sent along on the recon mission to train the new people, but one of them had pricked his arm on a branch and cursed, revealing their position, and the fighting had begun. Now, as dawn steadily approached, John waited for the final wave…alone.
He had found a small means of cover: a large cave with rocks "guarding" the entrance. He had run inside, taking as many weapons as he could from recently killed aliens. He had beckoned his comrades inside, but they were shot before they could get inside.
With six grenades left and two full plasma weapon clips, along with three Brute Spikers and seven MA5B Assault Rifle clips, John hoped to hold out until dawn—and, hopefully, salvation—came.
He picked up a Spiker and waited at the ready.
Suddenly, a contingent of Brutes surged over a nearby hill, followed by Grunts and Jackals. A pair of Hunters brought up the rear.
Alarmed, John hurled a grenade into the midst of the Hunters. One was killed, and the other severely wounded. The wounded one screamed at the loss of its mate, and blew its own brains out.
Seeming disheartened by the loss of their "heavy weaponry," the Brutes rallied the remaining aliens and yelled, "Grenades!"
John quickly took his weapons and retreated as his cave was bombarded by grenades. He returned before the aliens had a chance to throw grenades again and peppered the area with Brute Spiker ammo.
Six Grunts, two Jackals, and a Brute fell, clutching themselves and howling in pain.
A Brute Chieftain roared and ordered that the aliens open fire.
John dodged salvo after salvo, blast after blast, spike after spike, all the while trying to fire himself. His shield, though tough, was quickly depleted when he did not dodge quick enough, and soon John had to rest.
He hurled another grenade and retreated into the cave, not staying to see how much damage he had caused.
After his shields recharged, John returned to the mouth of the cave and surprised three Jackals trying to sneak in. He snapped their necks and stole their shields, setting up as best he could a small defense. He clipped one shield to his chest plate, one to his back, and one he carried on his arm.
The aliens opened fire once more. John fired off a couple of rounds of plasma into their midst, and some screamed in pain as they were vaporized. Others continued to fire.
Dual-wielding Brute Spikers, John fired like a madman, killing everything he saw. The enemy forces were disheartened by his manic defense, and eventually, they stopped coming over the hill.
John tossed away the spent Brute Spikers and picked up two Plasma Rifles.
Suddenly, he heard a buzzing, a never-ending cacophony of wings the size of shotguns. Thousands of Drones zoomed over the hill.
He fired, fired, and fired again. Soon he realized that all his ammo was spent. Then he resorted to hand-to-hand.
However, the Drones grabbed his arms and legs and forced him down onto the ground. Struggling, he watched without emotion as one Drone, obviously the chief, stepped forward and twirled a primitive pikestaff above his head. The Drone raised the pikestaff slowly.
When he was about to bring it down, something happened.
Suddenly, John saw the Drone's multifaceted eyes go milky white as he slumped down, still suspended by something stuck through his thorax. An Energy Sword.
The Sangheili. The Elites.
This race of warrior-aliens had recently joined forces with the humans as a result of their displacement within the alien races. They liked wielding Energy Swords and did so skillfully.
The Elite that had killed the king Drone was known as the Arbiter, the leader of the Elite rebellion. He sliced away the Drones around the Master Chief and helped him up. "How you survived this long, John," the Arbiter said, "we'll never know."
John watched as dozens of Elites, along with trigger-happy Marines, sliced or shot the remaining alien forces.
John leaned against the wall tiredly.
The battle was over.
Now he could rest.
End.
October 10, 2007, by Alex Klingler