Prologue: Gearing Up
Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own any of the rights to the Halo or Star Wars franchises…f*** it, its fanfiction, it speaks for itself.
Deep Space, the average Tuesday, August 16th 2558…
The installation was as silent as the grave it was. It's metal walls never shone with the purpose it once had, the sentinels that once maintained it lay forgotten and lifeless. It had been this way for a long time now. No longer were its creators striding through its halls, no longer was the ancient Parasite roaming the galaxy as it once had in its insatiable hunger and unknown drive for destruction.
The Array had long since activated over 100,000 years ago, unleashing its unholy light across the Milky Way, cleaving away all sentient life and sufficient biomass that the parasite could have thrived off of, halting its advance through the stars to the rest of all creation but ultimately sealing the fate of the Forerunner Ecumene.
The reactor of the installation reverberated with power, humming to itself like some long-forgotten tune only it knew as the Forerunner settlement prepared.
A slipspace rupture had finally been detected only 4524 lightyears away. The last commandment of the Lifeshaper remained, the Mantle of Responsibility had been passed on to those the Librarian had deemed worthy in her intimate knowledge of the species she had nurtured and protected since their forced fall from grace through the Forerunners' arrogance and prejudice.
The Reclaimers had come.
"Do us all a favour, whoever drops last gets to make sure the asses that take us out are dragged down with us!"
Karl had said that as a joke, how could any of them had known?
Grace and 'Livia had howled with laughter.
Idan just nodded and raised his glass with a chuckle.
Requiem stared out at the Infinity like it had discovered a colony of rats outside its door. Not entirely sure how that worked, but the intimidating presence the Shield World exuded was there. Its entrance shone, open and inviting with the promise of sweet, sweet Forerunner treasure and adventure awaiting them.
Like the honey trap it was.
"Idan?". The voice was muffled but he could hear that shit-eating grin anywhere.
Fantastic.
"Idan? Come on, wakey wakey! Nap times over you meatsack!"
Idan's eyes shot open, groaning, blearily shaking his head awake and wriggling his toes. "Santa? Unless its Christmas then there had better be a reason you woke me up this early".
Swivelling his head to the holopad across the room that held its smug god with his favourite weapon of terror like the plinth it was.
"As a matter of fact, Christmas came early this year but the sooner you're out of that pod and suited and booted, the faster I can let you run wild over to your presents!" Santa spoke as he waved his AI Overlord status over the Spartan-IV's head. Or his waist rather, he was still getting used to his comfortable, godly size of 6.8 feet.
Santa was weird, to say the least. For an AI it was expected, but Santa paraded his extra special weirdness wherever he went. What ramped that aspect up a notch was his chosen avatar. Instead of the average Smart AI that usually picked a more human persona, Santa decided a Sangheilli inspired Father Christmas was the way to go on his path towards being the most unique with as much eccentricity as possible, red hat and robes trimmed with white fur all the bloody way.
Regardless, Idan still appreciated the only friend he had. Anyone else who tried to talk to him somewhat friendly just came off as pitying or afraid of the ODST-…Spartan. That still took getting used to, but he would still wear that title with pride.
"Good grief mate, I don't know who the clever bastard was that gave you that name but I wanna break their fingers then hug them" Idan rumbled out, wincing in pain as the small smile of his cryo-frozen muscles strained to achieve the age-old expression.
"Ha! Good luck with that, as much as I want to see that happen I know there will be several layers of authorization I know you don't have the patience to wait to get and then wait to fill out first before you even get to his secretary". Santa chuckled out, tapping his foot to the beat of the holographic red piano he 'played' with even more holographic computer screens whizzing from left to right above him, even if it was just a prop for show to accompany the audio file that would probably explain the music. The image was still bizarre but welcoming.
Idan reached up and slammed his hand down on the release catch for the cryopod he was no longer trapped in. Stepping out onto the deck of the tiny cryobay with two resounding thuds, Idan jogged his way to the armoury, Santa deciding to follow the fun way, projecting two wings onto the damned piano and a propeller on the front like a dementedly festive biplane and swooped his way after his partnered organic and resident antisocial caveman.
Santa still remembered that day he had discovered and quickly chose his spartan. The reports had came in from both Fleetcom and the ONI Operative aboard the six-and-a-bit kilometre long UNSC flagship and scientific vessel Infinity. A single Spartan fireteam had went above and beyond in their duty when the mission to explore the Forerunner Shield World named Requiem went ever so slightly FUBAR for the Infinity and its personal fleet.
In one of the first missions down to the shelled planet, Fireteam Crimson had earned major brownie points by snatching the first piece of remarkably interesting Forerunner tech from the Covenant Storm that still lingered on like a disease that refused to just die and had made themselves at home on Requiem like fleas.
The recovered artefact had done something very interesting indeed when it temporarily EMPed the Infinity and anchored the flagship in place, connecting the colossal vessel to the Forerunner Planet. Crimson had immediately rectified their unintentional issue that was in no way their fault and had drenched the Forerunner installations and Covenant camps in blood.
They weren't skipping along to the merry tune of gunfire and armoured stomps. The entire team had casualties. Spartan Karl Foreman was crushed by a Covenant drop pod during a chaotic fistfight with a horde of Grunts, Spartan Grace Owens had died from impalement of a Promethean Knight's hardlight blade and finally Spartan Olivia Toomes had stayed behind to either delay or halt a Covenant battalion whilst Spartan Idan Vance hustled his way to the Forerunner equivalent of a telephone pole and engaged in aggressive negotiations backed by ten knuckles, a pulse grenade and a dream.
Spartan Toomes had been the only body recovered by the last member of the Fireteam.
Idan had discovered her mangled corpse being fought over by two Elites who wanted a trophy of their legendary achievement, the death of a human demon. The two elites wore the blue armour of a Minor and the purple of a Zealot.
The Zealot had won the lover's tiff and had begun tugging at Olivia's head, trying to discover a method that would release the helmet from its owner. The two religious bastards so enraptured by their prize that they failed to notice the whisper quiet footsteps of the Crimson Spartan. Followed by the hissing of a titanium alloy kukri unsheathing from a gauntlet and caught by the waiting hand of an emotionally compromised warrior.
The vengeful soldier reached up and slit the Minor's angled throat, stepping down from the makeshift foot ladder of the hingeheads's jointed knee.
The Zealot cursed as it fumbled with the helmet, the greedy idiot so absorbed in tugging, growling and over the send of 'Livia's constantly snapping neck and helmet slamming against her chestplate, he hadn't heard his comrade fall.
Fuelled by raw grief and hatred, Idan clamped his hand down with a vice grip around the back of the neck of the Zealot's chest plate, crushing the alloy. Idan, wasted no time with his window of opportunity open and presence made known and shot his kukri down into the centre of the sangheili's spinal column like a ballistic missile, just above his waist, crippling him below the torso.
The Elite howled in pain and fell to his hands and knees before his face crashed into the ground once his legs would be of use no more. Pawing at the ground, he threw himself onto his back with a wave of agony rushing in and settling down. It turned to observe his would-be murderer and saw the strangest sight.
The Demon that still lived was kneeling, cradling its kin, franticly glancing up and down the slain one's body, no doubt hoping beyond hope that that one could still be saved.
The Demon stopped its rushed movement, hanging its head and staring into the sky-blue visor of the fallen.
Then he heard it, growling.
The Demon looked to the Zealot, metal-silver visor directly to open, pain-filled eyes. Then the Demon spoke, not in one its native languages but in Sangheilli.
"That was a mistake". The rumbling growls were still heard but the voice that spoke was monotone, cold and unfeeling. The Demon rose instantly, ripping its small blade out of the ground and stomped over to the Zealot.
"I don't have much time, so we'll have to make this quick". The vengeful warrior slowly looked over the Elite, scanning him. Calculating, patient. Stopping at his feet, specifically on the four large toes and two heels.
"Allow me to educate you on a part of my people's culture". It dropped to one knee, one hand propping the Elite's leg up, toes splayed like an arachnid's legs.
The Zealot may not have been able to move but it could still feel the iron grip and the rocks scratching its armour.
The dreaded blade that cut deepest rose up again like a guillotine before being placed directly over the left outermost toe. The demon placed a hand on the opposite side of the top of the horizontal blade.
"Now, this little piggy went-"
Pain exploded over the Elite's leg and it let out another blood curdling scream. Why wouldn't he just die? Was this a last test before meeting his gods? He would endure through the pain if he-
The blade dropped down again, and the beast howled and whimpered.
Idan, through the red haze of his vision and the heat scorching his mind, remembered he was still on mission and he had a very short time before Fireteam Majestic finished shutting down their part of the anchor and the Requiem would fall out of Orbit.
"Infinity, this is Fireteam Crimson. Primary anchor destroyed, awaiting pickup".
"Ah-affirmative Crimson, Pelican is on its way" Miller responded immediately, his voice shaking. Why, was he nervous? What could…it just occurred to him, his helmetcam had been online and transmitting since the Pelican dropped them off…
Well…shit.
"Snip-SNIP!" The blade fell again.
The ETA for the Pelican was still ten minutes away. Dragging the fallen spartan to the extraction zone would take at least three.
The Sangheilli beneath him still had several opposable limbs remaining. How tantalising.
Three toes down, 1 remaining, 6 fingers included plus thumbs.
He remembered the ships bar.
Laughter.
Drinks.
And a promise.
He had time.
Ample.
Amounts of time.
The ONI AI shredded away at the piano, each note sounding a different task completed, raw data of the installation flooding the Prowler's sensors. Screens of data whooshed past like the symbols in a Information, for Santa, was like a drug, there was never enough, he always wanted-NO, needed more.
His focus was divided into several views of what was most interesting at the time. The majority centred on scanning the Forerunner storage installation, a fraction on maintaining the ship, a larger fraction observing his spartan prepping them for exploring the structure.
Santa desperately wished he would go faster. Watching as he did final checks on the SAW machine gun, completely forgoing a second weapon in the interest of more drum mags to feed into the hungry beast.
"You know, we probably won't run in into any Covenant and the Brute packs don't have any reason to have a stronghold this far out of the Outer systems. Well…provided they don't know about this place, which I highly doubt since we efficiently dealt with the previous owners and they didn't get the chance to send out any copies to buddies out of town" Santa called out, drawing the spartan further out of his shell.
"Oh, I know alright but it doesn't hurt to have something and not need it rather th-"
"And need it and not have it yadayadablablaboringboring-HURRY UP ALREADY!, I'm losing my mind here!" Santa exclaimed, overeager to finally get his three fingered mitts of data on the Forerunner data that the installation was drenched in, no doubt about that!
"Patience". Idan suggested, feeling peaceful with slotting round upon round into the drum mag.
"How are you one for patience? I watched you suplex a Jackal just because it wouldn't come out of the corner while its shield was up".
"He was being a turtlefuck, he deserved it-and wait, hol' up a sec. We? You were backseat driving the entire time!"
"Just because you were a taxi for me doesn't mean I didn't have a hand in that!" Santa stated, removing one hand from the piano to wag a finger at his spartan.
Idan groaned, knowing this was a conversation he wouldn't win. The AI was a crafty bugger and had heaps of information and the processing speeds that delayed Santa's normal perception of time just to think on his next move.
"Fine, okay then". he conceded, smiling freely now that he no longer felt like a frozen carcas on a butcher's hook. Idan placed the last bullet into the drum mag with a satisfying click and slammed the drum mag into the SAW. "Ready for your walkies now?" He grinned, at the 'screee' of excitement.
Idan owed a lot to the AI, ever since that small event of revenge on the Zealot and bringing back 'Livia's body and armour to the Infinity had been in deep shit to say the least. He was a bit of a social pariah when the video of the mission had made its way around the Spartans' entire deck known simply as "Spartan Town".
Some of the other spartans approved openly when he avenged his teammate but the others were scared stiff and denied any chance of being in a fireteam with him so that lowered the number of fish in the sea for Idan. To top all that off, he had been threatened with a psych eval from the higher-ups in the UNSC which could very likely lead to him disappearing down a deep, dark hole for the remainder of his life.
He was faced with a highly likely dishonourable discharge and possible jailtime for committing war crimes, which was still debatable since it was the Covenant they were talking about and they had created the peak for the records of war crimes. Alongside that, he was emotionally compromised before that with Fireteam Crimson being picked off one by one and shattered with grief and rage.
That's where ONI had come in nonchalantly through the door to fix all his problems whilst creating new ones.
The Office of Naval Intelligence had been deeply interested in the Forerunner world and they had needed a spartan who was willing to work alone, was an extremely capable fighter with a smidge of a dark side. This was the perfect opportunity for them. They were planning on sending out teams of a single spartan paired with an AI and a Stealth Prowler to explore any Forerunner installations or worlds, learn whatever they could, snatch as much data and tech they could get their five-fingered guantlets on and destroy any possible hostiles found there. Any Flood in containment that were found were to be destroyed completely and safely to eradicate any chances of a third universal crusade to destroy all life.
Idan Vance, the Crimson Spartan, was their ideal operative. He had no family back home to worry about, no extensive list of friends that might come looking for him and flexible honour and a grey area of moral codes. He always got the job done.
How could he refuse?
Captain Thomas J Lasky had been in the process of debating sending Vance to the brig for the remainder of the journey back home to Earth which included a lot of forehead rubbing and headaches when he had a stroke of luck for him and more than a twinge of sympathetic guilt.
The matriarch of ONI herself, Admiral Serin Osman had requested Spartan Vance come to Sydney, the main base of ONI for a one-on-one meeting.
Vance clamped onto the handhold braces of the BDU as the gyroscopic machine began to encase him in the armour he had come to appreciate both aesthetically and in use.
Thanks to the science teams of Infinity they had recovered a hefty trove of Forerunner data and ONI immediately began experimenting and playing with that information like children with lego. The moment he had signed the contract that confirmed his orders and sealed himself with a neat little sash stating 'I am now a a high class/maintenance slave that will be treated with respect and dignity while also being eligible for a firing squad if I attempt to leave without saying where I'm going and that I will indeed be back in time for curfew'.
Idan had been weighed, measured and tested, even going so far as to study his mission logs that came with helmetcam footage like devoted worshippers. All this to design and outfit him with the armour of a Forerunner Prefect, modified for human use. They had coloured it with the traditional ONI black and the visor silver, so much like his previous Warrior design of his MJOLNIR.
What made this armour very unique however, was that it was the debut of lots of experimental Promethean tech, all integrated and directly built into the armour instead of the old 'slap on and go' Promethean tech that were worn like reverse fanny packs and only allowed for one special function at a time.
The visor came with the 'Promethean Vision'(he was surprised they didn't come up with a more ONI-ish term) module built in like the other exciting stuff the visor did like polarising to protect the spartan's sight and managing the Heads Up Display.
What was easily the best part, was the armour itself. Prefect armour came with outstandingly carved lined grooves in the armour, which was part of the major style. THIS armour however, utilised those grooves for way more functionality. Useful,but what made the set extra pretty were the hardlight generators.
The generators produced panels of glowing and flowing-blue hardlight that filled those grooves and produced other hardlight panels that encased the alloy metal straps and bindings that held the armour onto the wearer's body.
These didn't just serve as extra body armour, the hardlight generators had more functions, something the ONI engineers had stressed to him. With assistance from Santa, the two could pull off some wild shenanigans to fit the situation ranging from, riot shields, dome shields, a big fookoff shield wall and whatever was required or came to mind at the time.
After that had been explained, Idan had initially thought they were done, then Santa just laughed as the Engineers dropped a large stack of documents and instructions for maintenance before starting up another explanation about the armour's other capabilities, including the very thrusters that would later be designed, developed and slapped on to the new wave of MJOLNIR GEN2, albeit slightly less effective compared to Idan's way more advanced and aggressive Forerunner variant.
Idan knew that the only reason he was getting armour this incredibly rare and powerful was because he was going on missions that while important could very quickly go tits up at a moment's notice, whether that would be a fresh outbreak of Flood that escaped from containment, Jiralhanae packs, Covenant and the various Forerunner constructs that might see him as the unwelcome house rat. If he was going to put up a fight, the armour would definitely amplify the body count he'd produce.
The shiny black helmet, held aloft by two gyroscopic arms was offered to the Crimson Spartan. Idan casually lifted the onyx helm with both hands and slid it on and around his metaphorically and literally thick noggin.
He strode over to the table and hefted the hardpack filled with nothing but drummags and explosives onto the magnetic holster on his back and grabbed the carry grip on the top of the SAW.
"Alrighty then, if you're finished putting your makeup on, we can get going now!" Santa no longer playing his piano like the devil himself and was now sitting on the front of it, arms crossed with one leg tapping…well, nothing except the imaginary floor of thin air.
"Yikes, are you gonna be this sassy the entire time?", Idan tossed over his shoulder as he passed by, on his way to collecting the AI from the cockpit.
"Very astute observation sir! I tip my fluffy, bobbled hat to you!" Idan heard from around the corner. "Unless we A: meet the Librarian herself, B: discover a way to convince fanatics on the faults of their religion or C: find a magical button to transfer all control over the Prometheans and all Forerunner to humanity whilst simultaneously burning away everything Flood related without the rest of us getting axed then you're goddamned right I'm gonna be the sassmeister that I am!"
Idan just grinned inside his helmet, glad his friend, secretary and tiny slave driver's antics wouldn't change.
"TAXI!", the door of the cockpit slid open and the glowing red core of Santa's data crystal-chip AKA glorified floppy disk popped up and out of the console of the Stealth Prowler like a curious meerkat. "Aha, my steed has arrived! Now, give me a yank and lets go exploring, Dora!"
Idan stopped dead in his tracks with wide eyes, specifically at the moment the phrase "give me a yank" invaded his ear drums. Shaking his helmeted cranium with a sigh, he pinched the chip with his thumb and index finger and pulled lightly, ejecting the AI and inserting it through the port in the back of his helmet and connecting Santa to his neural lace as a chill went through his skull.
"Ahhhh, contact!", Santa always enjoyed his rides in the MJOLNIR, they were WAY more exciting compared to the world of data he was used to. "Now, MUSH!", the sound of a whipcrack rang out, the AI signalling it was time.
"I really hate you sometimes".
"No you don't!"
"Yeah, you're right, you're way too adorable to stay mad at".
"Oooooh, you silver-tongued you!"
"Bloody hell".
"LANGUAGE!"
"You know, I wonder if the Master Chief ever had to deal with this with his AI", Idan mused".
"Doubt it, maybe on a lower level but Cortana was a lot more chill than I am before she jumped off the deep end into Rampancy". Santa said as the spartan braced himself against the wall, one leg balanced on it as they faced the airlock.
"Now, do this nice and smooth. I expect dramatic and cinematic results worthy of it's own movie once ONI finish head scratching at the footage when we get back". Santa remarked as he pinged the door to open in 15.
"When have I ever not outdone the legendary Tom Cruise? I'm already quite the movie star, the last one was such a success in the box office for FLEETCOM that your agents got us in contact!" Idan lowered down and enough power was added to the muscles in his legs that there was now a increasing dent in the wall of the UNSC Sleigh Ride".
"Technically I demanded them to since I'm such a fan".
The countdown dropped down to 10.
"You want an autogragh?
8…
"Nah I'm good fam".
6…
"You sure? Going once, going twice".
4…
"Positive".
2…
An ancient word of wisdom and power, offering solace in times of solitude returned. A word that instilled peace in the mind and offered awesome fortune and power prepared to ring out across the stars once more.
"YEET!" The demented duo yelled out in unison as they were shot out of the Sleigh Ride like the slug from a MAC cannon towards the installation, the two giggling at the cohesiveness they had developed as the thrusters kicked in to control their momentum.
END OF PROLOGUE