Halo: Collapse of an Empire
Prologue
A dense haze clouded Arken's vision. The atmosphere was thick with the putrid stench of death and decay. A single slimy insect had found it's way halfway up his leg; with a swift movement, he brushed it off the bright suit of armour, and into the dark undergrowth. Up ahead was a clearing, fading rays of sunshine merged with the artificial illumination of all manners of machines and mechanisms suspended in the air and delivered an otherworldly panorama. He smirked at his thought; but could not take the same amusement from the patent trap that lay in wait. Some way beyond it, a distant fire raged. Progress was good, then. He shouldered his rifle, eager to join battle, and lightly advanced across the dead, browning leaves, not making a sound, taking care to step around the enticing clearing.
The heat pounded down on his face and automatically, his helmet materialised. Raging foliage crashed down at his feet. Excellent; chaos was precisely the thing they'd all need in an operation like this. Close by, a man screamed. It was the scream of a coward, reassuring Arken that one of his comrades was in very close proximity; quickly scanning an area of burning debris, his sensors detected two lesser heat sources. The moving one concerned him, and hastily he skimmed along the scorched earth. He was met by the targeting reticle of his friend Maratt's weapon. Not entirely pleasant, but precisely what was needed. The other soldier lowered the rifle and through his helmet, flashed a smile. He gestured towards the blaze and together they progressed.
Their suits managed the soaring temperature well, the gauges on the wrists rising slightly. Sparks flew from the flame-engulfed maintenance entrance of the structure. Maratt smashed it with his foot and the temperature gauge fell steadily as they bustled inside. The corridor lit up timidly as they silently trod along. Motion sensors tracked every movement, and although the system was in turmoil, neither could shake the feeling that they were being observed by a million prying and disapproving eyes. Maratt, the point man, suddenly jolted to the left and barged through another door. The gravity lift inside was still operational. Arken found himself trapped in the mental interface first; they sped to the top of the complex within seconds.
A plasma explosion shredded the doors before they had had time to open, and immediately the two soldiers were plunged into battle. The room was elongated and what was left of the ceiling was a long way up. Smoke obscured the view of the other side, rubble littered the floor and some larger pieces provided ample cover. They made for the nearest with an urgent haste. Fiernstone was sturdy stuff, and as Arken knew with a sinking feeling that whatever enemies were present were besieging their position, the knowledge could only serve as encouragement. Unclipping an antimatter grenade, Maratt squeezed and then hurled it over his shoulder in a huge arc. The light split the relative darkness, and both men leapt from behind the boulder with rifles drawn. Fear was dispelled with overpowering rushes of adrenaline and within moments the weapons flashed and more opponents screamed. It was not a fair match; the protection, training and weaponry of Arken and his friend was far superior to that which they faced, but the enemy could have any number of reinforcements. Now was the time to concentrate and not get ahead of themselves.
As two plasma bolts seared past, they were forced to promptly return to the defensible position. Arken had seen enough; the main terminal occupied the very centre of the room. Just what opposition would be guarding it could not change his mind. He snapped his fingers and withdrew a high-powered fission explosive from his in-built inventory pack. Maratt strafed out of cover once more and opened fire skilfully, blasts of hot plasma tearing through more of the enemy. Time to move. Arken hurdled over the rock and sprinted down the grand hall, maintaining a consistent line. More weapons dispersed, some from more of his allies in the opposite side. The darkness glowed artificially.
Maratt noticed the tall man about to pounce on Arken, and eliminated him with a movement of his finger. What he did not notice, however, was the figure who'd crept up behind him. Instantaneously, his weapon was knocked out of his gloves and he just managed to avoid a ferocious swing of a plasma blade. He assumed the only combat stance instructors had ever told him to use, feet shoulder-width apart at a forty-five degree anger, and at lightning pace strafed to the left and delivered a jab. The bulky man, faceless and featureless behind the dull armour he sported, was equal to the effort and swept away the attack as though it were from a child. His own strike was much more effective and had Maratt stumbling two paces back. The soldier lost balance. Quickly he gazed over to where his friend was almost at the terminal, and collapsed.
The enemy was on him within seconds, sword still brilliantly blazing. His temperature gauge was going insane, and he was suddenly afraid, having to roll over to avoid a downwards strike and then block the attempted elbow. Rolling over to the other side, the plasma blade sliced through the armour and flesh of his arm, gashing deep and causing a stinging pain that he could not overcome. Confident of his victory, the other man rose up, the light catching the dull metal spookily, and delivered the finishing blow.
It came moments too late, as his brains exploded inside the helmet from the other side. The limp corpse slumped over Maratt, the last vision he had was of Arken's troubled face before he lost consciousness.