Prologue
And there, there overhead, there, there hung over
Those thousands of white faces, those dazed eyes,
There in the starless dark, the poise, the hover,
There with vast wings across the cancelled skies,
There in the sudden blackness the black pall
Of nothing, nothing, nothing - nothing at all.
-Aleister Macleish,
"The End of the World"
"Screening Shields are on Class Eight."
"Mirror armor plating is currently detached."
"Block 3685 on the Setsuna F. Seiei has been hit, atmosphere leaking."
"Damage?"
"Currently minimal, but their engines are exposed now."
The man who stood on the helm of the G.F.S. Cathedral Terra merely grinned. "Hold Steady, men. It's time for us to show the Anti-spirals who they're dealing with. Prepare to fire our MAC again."
"Yes, Milord, releasing current…firing." For a second, the bridge dimmed as, with a noticeable shudder, the Cathedral Terra released a glowing yellow bolt of light from its prow. One of the officer sitting at the monitor turned to the man. "Ashtanga-class in Sector 12 destroyed…" The officer grinned. "Finally…after decades of war…we'll be able to meet them face to face."
The man known to some as Lord Genome merely smiled. "Of course we will. Who the Hell do they Think We Are?"
Chapter 1 – Rebirth
"You've got to learn to survive a defeat. That's when you develop character."
-Richard Nixon
U.S. President, (1913-1994)
April 2544
Miridem
"Guam, did you find something?" The boy blinked dust from his eye as he walked over to the little Armadillo and the hole it had scratched out of the ground. With dusty but steady fingers, the boy picked up the small conelike object partially buried in dirt. "…A Drill?" From the house, his mother called. "Jean, its time to eat." The boy stood up to return – just as a shadow passed over the home. He looked up at the sky wonderingly – just as the first bulbous ships entered the orange sky.
The invasion of Miridem took people by surprise. It shouldn't have. Of course everybody followed the news – the first defeats at Madrigal, the destruction of Hat Yai and Eridanus II. Everyone had cheered as Admiral and Knight of Rounds Preston Cole had routed the enemy at Alpha Aurigae, XI Bootis A, Groomsbridge 1830, and Harvest, and when Vice Admiral Danforth seized victory with his Knightmare frames at the Atlas Moons, and at the Superhuman SPARTANS. Everyone had stood in silence after the destruction of Jericho VII and after Cole's final stand at Psi Serpentis. Some had cried. But nobody had truly considered the possibility that the alien alliance called the Covenant would appear above their own planet of Miridem. The five outdated frigates that had protected the planet had proved little hindrance for the Third Fleet of Glorious Consequence, and before they knew it, the Covenant was on the streets of Miridem City itself. Some met their end stoically, sitting silently in their homes. Others fled to their homes, their churches, their mosques, in the hopes of some kind of deliverance. Knightmare Squadron Commander Adrian Soresi decided he did not really care for either as he drove his GN-XIV past the wreckage of a burnt church.
"Grey Leader here, Sector 13-4 clear. We're moving onto 13-3."
"Copy, friendlies moving up at six o'clock."
Soresi took a quick glance at the rear camera screen. Two other GN-XIVs formed up behind him. Humanoid in appearance, the Knightmare Frame (more commonly known as the Gundam) had been employed by humanity since the Sakuradite Wars of the 2000's, and in a war in which UFNSC starships were so deficient in speed, armor, firepower and maneuverability, they were one of the few advantages humanity had.
"Sir?"
Soresi was interrupted from his thoughts by one of his wingmen.
"Yes, Grey Two?"
"Our Fleet is gone…so why haven't they glassed us yet?"
Soresi shuddered at the thought. Glassing – the utter destruction of a world, and the ultimate fate of every planet that had fallen to the Covenant. Normally, the Covenant would proceed to glass the planet within hours of naval Superiority. Soresi thanked his lucky stars that he had been assigned to Miridem.
"I don't know, private—but I say we make the best of it." But Soresi knew. As long as Dr. Halsey is kept safe, Miridem is safe. Dr. Catherine Halsey – the mastermind behind the SPARTAN program – the highly-publicized success story for humanity. With Admiral Preston Cole's death, the SPARTAN program provided a glimpse of hope in a sea of disappointments. Soresi, as a Section III officer of the Office of Naval Intelligence, had witnessed firsthand the SPARTANS in battle on the Atlas Moons. Those superhuman feats on the vids were not Special Effects. If Dr. Halsey was captured, the Covenant could ensure the end to the SPARTAN program, to say the least – if not more. They Chose the right time. With most of Halsey's SPARTAN security detail serving on another mission with Vice Admiral Tursk's 3rd fleet, Halsey's protection was contingent on Section III Personnel and a unit of ODST's—and while Soresi did not the underestimate the skill and bravery of the Helljumpers, he knew they were only Human.
"Grey Two, our priority is protecting this city and holding them off until reinforcements arrive from New Madrasa. Let's cut the chatter."
Soresi glanced at the sky at the black beetlelike shapes that blocked out the dimming sun. It was only a matter of time until headquarters fell—would the 3rd fleet arrive in time?
"This is an Emergency Broadcast by the United Federation of Nations Army. All Citizens, please remain calm and stay alert. Take only what you can carry and proceed to the secondary school. The Army will be there to protect you, and transports to the spaceport will arrive every fifteen minutes. I repeat, please remain calm and stay alert. Take only—" like most calls for people to stay calm, this call went unheeded where there were no soldiers to enforce the order. Everyone knew that the army was not going to prevent the Covenant from just glassing the place. And, unfortunately for the Teppelins, there were no policemen or soldiers in their vicinity. "Elsie, take Jean to the car. If I'm not there in three minutes, leave without me." We need to get out of here. Christopher Teppelin hurriedly wrenched open the refrigerator as he piled what he could into the box in his hands. Outside, the dim, constant rumble that was the sound of the ground battle seemed to permeate the room. It's like the Covenant is hunting me. Unlike his father or his brothers, he did not feel obligated to join the UFN Armed forces, as his family had done since the Sakuradite Wars. And look where it got them. Jack had died at Groomsbridge, and Allen had met a similar fate at Charybdis IX. In moving to Miridem, he had abandoned his pride, the respect of his family, and probable certain death in the hopes of protecting his family. And the Covenant won't even let me have that? Kicking the door open, Teppelin ran to the bright yellow civilian warthog, where his wife, Elsie, waited at the wheel. "I'm almost a minute late, you should have left," he yelled (though naturally he knew he didn't mean it). Elsie simply smiled weakly as she shifted to the backseat. Without buckling his seat-belt, Teppelin floored the pedal – and felt the rewarding jolt as the warthog lurched onto the road. Though this warthog was a scaled down version of the ones used by the UFN Military, it still had a sense of power to it, a sense of sturdiness and safety. The warthog gave a loud bellow as he struck the horn, causing a few countrymen to leap aside as the heavy vehicle skidded onto the road – and then almost sidelined a bus. Screeching to a halt, Christopher nearly cursed aloud as he realized the length of the pileup in front of him. Every person with a car was now fleeing for the spaceport, with pedestrians doing their best to climb on – and so, naturally, a traffic jam ensued. "Fuck," Christopher muttered quietly as he turned around. "You two alright?" Christopher regarded his wife and child. Jean Teppelin shared the wispy, almost white hair of his mother. He did not seem particularly perturbed by the chaos around him as he poked at his pet Armadillo, Guam, with what looked like a small drill on a loop of string. Somewhat small for his age, Christopher had nevertheless seen him outpace his larger peers. Not everyone has a 6-year old in 5th grade. Elsie, meanwhile, smiled back, her white hair blowing behind her like some kind of angelic aura. "We're alright, Chris." Christopher smiled as best as he could before adding the sound of the Teppelin family Warthog's horn into the tumult. The only result of this was that the passengers of the flatbed in front of him began gesticulating with their middle fingers. Chris hoped Jean didn't see that. Muttering under his breath, he looked up—just in time to see the purple, bulbous head of a Covenant fighter descending over the traffic column. "Elsie, Jean, get off the—"
"Grey Four, activating Trans-am!"
"Copy. Grey Six, cover him!"
"—Grey Three, moving to assist—oh shit, tangos at four o'clock—"
"—Red Team currently requesting assistance—"
"—Repeat, this is overlord. All Knightmare units are to fall back towards UFNSC Headquarters—"
"Captain, they're ordering us to go back!"
Captin Adrian Soresi's GN-XV squeezed off a burst of cannon fire at a passing Banshee as he did his best to control his subordinates. "We'll go back when we get these split-faced bastards off our backs!" IF we can get these bastards off our backs. His own Gundam's power levels were not high, and damage to the tau drive that kept the knightmare frame running meant that it was now leaking energy. He had lost almost half of his unit of ten knightmares, and the rest were hardly in better shape. Trans-am, while temporarily tripling the performance potential of a knightmare, quickly exhausted the Tau drives and left the pilot with a weakened knightmare. From what he had heard from fellow ONI members, glassing had began outside Miridem City. So they know where Halsey is now. There was still no word from the third fleet, and the few refugee transports that had gotten out of orbit had been promptly shot down. Worse still, he and his unit were trapped, the rest of the UFN Army having long since evaporated (or been evaporated). With a jolt, the GN-XV pitched forwards as the sound of sizzling announced that it had been struck from behind by plasma. With a unit of grunts shooting at him from in front and a ghost from behind, there was only one thing Adrian could do. "Trans-am, activate."
Fire. Smoke.
Smoke everywhere.
Everyone's running.
Mom and dad…
Blood.
Help.
Don't leave us here.
I don't want to die.
Like a drunk, the boy staged out from under the wreckage of the destroyed Warthog. He glanced at the blood that dripped from his left arm. It wasn't his. Everything sounded muffled, like something far away. The boy barely registered the gently pulsating and glowing drill that dangled from his arm. He simply felt himself drawn to the glowing object that lay in a crater nearby, unearthed by a stray plasma bolt. He drifted past the bodies of the flatbed passengers who only moments ago had been making hand signs at his father, and the burnt, spent-out fuel rod that had been stabbed into the ground. The ground around it smoked, obliterated by the blast of superheated plasma. But the knightmare – if it could be called a knightmare – was unharmed. But at the moment, logic for Jean Teppelin had long since been kicked the curb. He only one thing in mind, and that was to do as much damage as he could.
In its infancy, the Knightmare frame had been nothing more than an ejection seat meant to preserve the life of the pilot. Now the GN-XV fulfilled this purpose once again as Adrian Soresi ejected from the damaged mecha. Its roller-skate like landspinner propulsion gear now locked up, the hulk of the gundam collapsed to the ground as Soresi struggled out of the ejection cockpit. "Over here, captain!" One of his fellow pilots beckoned to him from a ruined building, pausing to fire a burst of fire from his assault rifle. Most of the knightmares had long since ejected – their Tau drives had not been completely charged when they had entered battle, and anyone who had activated trans-am would have long since expended their batteries. Adrian paused to grab his own rifle—just as he felt a plasma bolt shooting overhead with a sizzle and a burst of intense heat. Way too close! He could hear the high-pitched gabbering of the tiny grunts, the expendable light infantry of the Covenant, from behind the pod, now closing in. Reaching towards his side for a long, canister-like grenade, he hurled it over the pod into the air, covering his ears as he yelled "Flashbang!" Moments later, the high-pitched whine of a flashbang's wake filled Adrian's ears as he sprinted for the ruined building where his fellow pilots were willing him on. Adrian could almost feel time slow down as the quick frenzied beats of his heart slowed from a tango to a slow bossa nova. Unlike the marines, the knightmare corps did not wear any armor – one hit and he would be barbecued. He took a quick glance at his pursuers—and saw, with a burst of sweat, an Elite—with a fuel rod gun. "OH SHI—" Egged on by his new, more dangerous pursuer, he ran with renewed speed—just in time, as the incapacitated grunts began firing once again with their light-green plasma pistols. With an almost painful impact, Soresi felt his heartbeat penetrate into his skull as he traced the slow progress of the bright-green fuel rod into the air—slowly sizzling past the escape pod—arcing down, ever so slowly behind him as it touched the ground—and then Adrian something strike him in the back as he shot forwards—right into the waiting blackness.
"…Grey four to Overlord, do you copy? Grey four to Overlord, goddammit, do you copy?"
I guess I'm not dead yet. In a way, Adrian was relieved—but in another, he was pissed. He didn't appreciate being snatched from the jaws of hades to be thrown back in again. He was still in the middle of a dying city fighting against a vastly superior army with a few handguns. "Captain, you're awake!" There was legitimate happiness in Grey Three's voice as he ran over to Adrian. A native of Tennessee province, Ezekiel James's loud, drawling voice dug into Adrian's skull like a jackhammer. "Ah'm really glad you're alive." Adrian just remembered how nice, considerate, patriotic and religious Ezekiel Jedediah James was – probably why nobody else could stand him.
"Shut up, James, and give me a SITREP."
"It's just Mason, Kigali and Nicolai left. Maxson and Taehoon got killed before they could eject, and Stan got killed after he ejected."
Bloody Great. "Who are we facing?" "We've got an awful lot of brutes, a few of those lizard things and elites with fuel rod guns."
"Wonderful."
"Not really, sir."
"…I was being sarcastic, private."
"…oh, sir."
Adrian would have made another sarcastic comment if one of the other survivors hadn't yelled from the upstairs window. "Guys, you need to take a look at this!"
Deciding to disabuse private James later, Adrian ran up the stairs—into the open air. There wasn't much of an upstairs left, save for a wrecked wall where Grey Four, Nicolai Kowalksi, was hiding. Next to him, Troy Mason gesticulated wildly with his rifle.
"What the hell is that thing?"
"Mason, what the hell are you yelling at?"
Adrian ran over to Mason, who was grinning a smile that glowed like a fuel rod. Mason merely pointed wordlessly at a knightmare—or what Adrian could try to call a knightmare. "What in god's name is that?"
It was the ugliest mecha Adrian Soresi had ever seen. Though if held at gunpoint, Adrian might refer to the mecha as a knightmare frame, it seemed more like the Head of a knightmare frame-and little else. Short, wide and stubby, the knightmare frame looked like a huge head, complete with angry, lifelike face. Hardly taller than Adrian, the "knightmare" was essentially a metal face, propelled by two short stubby legs and two short arms. Unlike the Gundams/knightmares, which either flew or moved on wheeled landspinners, the "knightmare" waddled on its legged, leaping from place to place as it barreled into the Elite with the fuel rod gun, crushing it into a wall.
"Sir, I don't think he's an enemy," Mason remarked.
Meanwhile, a plasma bolt struck the "knightmare," causing it to tip over precariously. Moments later, a second and third bolt followed as nervous but emboldened grunts began to close in.
"Well, fuck it, let's give him a chance." Leaning over the rubble, Adrian took aim at a nearby grunt with his rifle and fired, the recoil digging the rifle into his shoulder as the rest of Grey Squadron opened fire as well. Troy, as usual, was yelling something only vaguely intelligible as he fired. Most of the other pilots made it a point to mute him from their channels. Ignoring him, Soresi continued firing—and then abruptly was knocked to the ground as the wall behind him exploded. "What the hell?"
"Locusts," Mason yelled over the roar of exploding rubble and the whine of plasma bolts as he crawled off Adrian. "I've been yelling about it the whole time! Don't you ever listen to me?"
"No," Adrian admitted. He took a quick peek around the rubble wall – quadrapedal, bright purple, and armed with a plasma turret, the Locust was not as formidable as the massive and heavily armored Scarabs, but against infantry, they were still overkill. Fortunately for Grey Team, the Locust had its sights set on the "knightmare" that was now rushing towards it with speed that stood at odds with its tiny limbs. Mason took a quick peek over the piece of rubble. "Don't tell me it has some kind of secret weapon—" –and then the "knightmare" tackled the Locust.
"Guess not," Adrian muttered as Mason made his thoughts clear to everyone.
"Short-ass robot guy, all that running and all you can do is try to run him down?"
Resplendent Fervor, 3rd Fleet of Glorious Consequence
In Orbit Above Miridem
The Unggoy communications officer looked up from his display. "Supreme Commander, Thel 'Lodamee has just returned on board with the Human Engineer. He has also reported the death of one of those Cyborg Demon Warriors."
On board the Resplendent Fervor (and dressed fairly resplendently in the golden armor fitting of a Fleet Supreme Commander), Supreme Commander Luro 'Taralumee nodded slowly with satisfaction. The Capture of a human leader and the death of one of those Demons…Another success to report to the Vice Cleric of Zeal.
"S-Supreme commander?"
Luro 'Taralumee blinked as the Unggoy brought him back from the glorious prospects of a few more mates.
"What is it," he barked with a hint of annoyance.
"Human ships. Seems like a fleet of them."
Taralumee paused. As of now, he had essentially won a flawless victory, crushing the Human defense fleet, destroying a SPARTAN and capturing a high-profile target. Perhaps a few more human heads would be the crown jewels to my success.
"Numbers?"
"Fifty-three. Seems like Thirty-three of their smaller ships, thirteen destroyers, and Seven cruisers."
Hmmm…With Ten of his thirty-ship fleet posing as decoys for the Miridem System's main fleet, his twenty-odd ships would definitely be a match for the Humans—but it would be a close one, and one with a chance of failure. And neither Luro 'Taralumee nor the Vice Cleric of Zeal would appreciate failure.
"Sahas, order the fleet to withdraw. We're too divided to risk a confrontation."
A Sangheili aide glanced at the Supreme Commander. "If I may, Supreme commander, the odds are in our favor."
"Nala, we would lose most of our fleet."
"With all due respect, Supreme commander, we are prepared to give our lives for victory."
Luro 'Taralumee shook his head. "Our priority is to return the human engineer to the Prophets. Sahas, order the fleet to enter slipspace."
Sahas turned around worriedly. "What about our brothers still on the planet?"
"A Small sacrifice if it means an end to the Demons that have slew so many more of our brothers."
Luro 'Taralumee sighed. Casualties were unwelcome, but the Covenant could afford to lose them—and so could he. I can always blame them on Thel 'Lodamee.
Automatically and blindly, the boy deftly manipulated the controls of the Mecha like a trained pilot. And yet, the mecha did not appear to have any kind of weaponry save for its bulk, and the spiral energy bar that wound around the ignition key remained dim and partially lit. Everything seemed to be crushed under a blanket of silence.
Mom, Dad.
They're both dead, a voice told him.
With a loud lurch, the mecha was blown back as it was struck in the face by a plasma bolt.
No, they're not!
They are – and you'll be soon if you don't get a hold of yourself.
The boy gritted his teeth until they hurt as the mecha continued to shudder. The spiral energy bar was now dropping lower and lower.
Do you really want to disappear like that? A smear in the dirt? The other voice now sounded vaguely taunting.
No…but what can I do?
Fight, of course.
With what? This mecha is barely worth a thing, and I'm not trained to pilot one of these things—I'm six years old.
…You're thinking too logically. You need to kick that logic to the curb.
Aren't we meant to be logical?
When the voice spoke again, it was layered with nothing with contempt. Then die, then. You aren't fit to live on. Take your logic with you to the grave.
Slowly, the spiral energy bar began to inch back to the key under the sustained plasma fire. The cockpit began to dim, fading into darkness.
Maybe this is all the better for you, the voice muttered.
The boy's grip on the controls slackened—and then tightened.
I don't want to die.
"I don't want to die," he said quietly.
"I don't want to die," he repeated, this time aloud.
"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"
Abruptly, the energy bar lit up with green light.
The Sangheili Major known as Saras 'Wamlikee cursed under his breath. The human robot just wouldn't die. What kind of shield is it using? His Type-33's plasma cannon were coming dangerously close to overheating, and yet the short, stubby robot's green shielding had suddenly renewed itself. It was now standing up despite the barrage of purple plasma bolts that Saras' Type-33 put up. What in the name of the Gods—he could feel the coordinated double-pump of his hearts beating in his chest—and, for the first time since he had joined the Third Fleet of Glorious Consequence, he felt an emotion that a Sangheili of the Wamlikee domain was supposed to know—fear. As he fired, he slowly moved the Type-33 back as the robot stood up—started walking—breaking into a run—and then, out of its head grew—A drill. Despite the resistance from the other marines, the Type-33's shields were largely intact—but somehow, deep inside him, Saras 'Wamlikee knew that they would not hold against that drill. He forced the Type-33 into a rapid backpedal—and then the drill struck the shields. They only held a moment—and then Saras 'Wamlikee felt himself slammed onto his controls. The last thing he saw was the sky whistling past him—and the ugly, blocky human crafts that filled the sky. They left without us—"MAY THE GODS CURSE YOU, LURO 'TARALU—"
"Holy Shit."
Troy Mason calmly pointed up at the disappearing point that was the "knightmare," trailing a corona of twisted metal that was all that remained of the Locust. Ezekiel James, though, was paying more attention to the sky. "The 3rd Fleet! It's here!" Moments later, a new voice came from Nicolai's transmitter. "This is Vice Admiral Berlin Tursk of the UFNSC 3rd Fleet. I see we're still alive down there. Good Job."
3 Hours Later
Setsuna F. Seiei Spaceport
Adrian Soresi sighed as he watched another civilian transport lift off, its holds filled to the brim with refugees. Though the Covenant fleet had been driven off, Miridem was as good as gone. With most of its populace dead and its infrastructure ruined, it was not worth being reinforced. "Makes you wonder whether this fight was worth it at all, right?" Adrian turned around—and immediately snapped into a salute. "Commander Taehoon!" Yeon Taehoon returned the salute—the Korean-born ONI officer had his arm in a sling as well. "The Miridem Defense Fleet…a few million civilians and most of the UFNSC Army, along with one of 'them' (Adrian nodded to the reference to a SPARTAN) and Dr. Halsey…we paid too much for this battle." Adrian shrugged. "It wasn't like Halsey was in any mood to restart the SPARTAN program anytime soon…plus I heard Jirons sending SPARTANs to get her."
"True, but…"
"Anyhow, what about that Mecha pilot?"
"Oh yeah, we found him a few miles off Miridem."
"Who was that pilot? And which moron down at R&D developed such an ugly knightmare?"
"It wasn't us, as far as I know—and that knightmare, from what you said, took more plasma than a frigate and came out unscathed. If it was one of ours, R&D did a good job."
"What about that pilot?"
Taehoon shuffled uncomfortably. "Well, you won't believe this…"
" What is it?"
"It's a kid. Some six-year old who somehow found a robot."
"and then destroyed a Locust? What the hell are they going to do to him, give him the medal of honor?"
Taehoon looked away.
"Nah…he was dying when we found him. He's dead now."
"Pity…"
The two men sighed as they watched the fires rage around what was left of Miridem City.
UFNSC Oprichnik
In Orbit Above Miridem
"Did anyone notice?"
"Nope, everything went well…we switched the kid for a flash clone…troublesome, though."
"Well, I guess that's one more kid to add to Ackerson's great big family."
"Heh…fuck Ackerson."
"Agreed."
"This kids got great things ahead for him."
"None that anyone will know about…Remember what happened to the Alpha and Beta Company SPARTAN-III's?"
"…"
UFNSC 15th Fleet, in Orbit around Reach
UFNSC Ajax
Vice Admiral Nicholas Teppelin silently watched the clouds swirl in the world below him from the window of the captain's quarters. He couldn't help smiling slightly. Those pristine skies and clouds were so similar to the home that he had to leave behind at Harvest. Behind him, the door hissed open as an officer stepped in. The smile vanished off Teppelin's face as he responded to the soldier's salute with one of his own. "UFNSC relay, sir, from Miridem."
"Yes, Petty Officer?"
"We had to evacuate the planet due to heavy casualties."
The smoldering cigarette drew symbols in the air.
"Tch, cowards. Anything else?"
"Your son, Christopher Reeve Teppelin and his family are listed as Dead, sir."
"That coward…well, he got what he deserved."
"…I'm sorry, sir."
"Tch, save it for your family. Now Return to your station."
"Yes, sir."
Nick Teppelin waited until the blast doors closed before he quietly put his palm against the glass.
"Tch…So I guess I'm alone, then…?"