Chapther 1. Mission Complete.
August 30, 2552.
Ship breaking facility, Aszód. Reach.
White light. Blinding white light. Heat. Distortion.
Pain.
Six coughed. He had completed his mission. Cortana had been delivered. Mankind's best hope of survival. An AI. He coughed again. He felt pain everywhere. The Brutes packed quite a punch.
He started walking towards the Onager cannon. Emile had been firing non-stop for at least an hour at the incoming horde of Covenant aircraft. Phantoms and Banshees and the crews within fell by the dozen. Bodies of Jackals and Brutes and marines littered the ground and stairs toward the platform. Without Emile, things might have worked out differently.
Careful not to alert any potential enemies Six used the shadows to his advantage. The shadows had always been his true element. His natural silence to his surroundings amplified it. A lone wolf stalking his prey. He did not see, nor hear anyone. He checked his radar often. He worked his way up the stairs picking up a MA5B Assault Rifle that lay to his right, covered in blood. He examined it and when he was satisfied he placed it on his magnetic strap on his shoulder. Slightly further lay a fragmentation grenade. He was already wearing a sidearm, fixed on his right thigh. Other than that, he was carrying his extended combat knife. Usually the knife sported a 20 cm blade. Six had had it extended to at least 27 cm. The more blade, the more kill.
Emile had gone down fighting.
A Covenant cruiser had emerged as Six received Captain Keyes on the platform.
"Cruiser! Adjusting heading to the Autumn! Noble Four, I need firing on that cruiser or we're not getting out of here! Do you copy?" Captain Keyes shouted into his radio.
"I have your window, Sir." Emile responded with his harsh voice.
A phantom drop-ship emerged as Keyes' pelican-escort had begun turning towards the Autumn. It had opened fire immediately and hit the pelican sideways, bringing it crashing down a few feet from where Six was standing. Keyes' pelican began hovering, the pilot ready to leave. The phantom had hovered towards Emile's position and had unleashed Elites. One had landed next to the Onager seat, igniting its energy sword.
Emile let out a roar as he shot the Elite point blank, immediately dropping its energy shields, making the Elite fall to the ground by the sheer force of the impact. Emile got up and pumped another shot right into it as it lay down, killing it instantly.
He shouted "who's next?" right before being ambushed by another Elite, penetrated by an energy sword. Emile groaned. The elite lifted him off of the floor with its sword. Emile picked out his kukri knife, whipped around and pierced the knife into the Elite's neck while shouting "I'm ready! How about you?" The pair tumbled over and disappeared.
Six had watched the whole thing, analyzed and he knew what he had to do.
"Lieutenant! Get onboard! We gotta get the hell outta here!" A marine shouted stretching out his arm. Six stared at the hand, unwilling.
"Negative. I have the gun. Good luck Sir." He said in a calm, reassuring voice.
Keyes shook his head and turned down his eyes. 'Another Spartan lost. We need all of them', he thought.
"Good luck to you Spartan." He said. The voice was broken. The marines onboard the Pelican looked at each other. Mixed feelings. Awe and sorrow. The pelican drifted away as six started walking towards the Onager.
The rest is near history.
The sky had a crimson red color. The clouds were dark. The ground was dust. Where there had once been grass there was now molten metal, husks of vehicles and fire. I was hell. It is hell. Hundreds of kilometers away the Covenant cruisers were turning the world into glass.
Six had made his way to the Onager. Two Elites lay dead, with Emile in the middle still holding his knife. His armor was pierced where the Elite had struck. His head tilted slightly to the left. Six reached down, put his hand on Emile's shoulder and took his time, grieving. After a few seconds he reached out and grabbed Emile's dog-tags. The least he could do. He now held Jorge's and Emile's. SPARTAN 052 and SPARTAN A-239.
He had accomplished his mission. He had nowhere to go. He was stranded. Alone. The last of Noble team.
Suddenly. He heard a Phantom hover near his position. He crouched down and took cover behind a barricade, sticking out his head to see. The phantom had landed 50 meters from his position, a couple of meters down. Six Grunts and seven Elites descended. 'Ultras and Zealots', he thought, as he noticed the Elites distinctive armor, armed with energy blades and plasma rifles.
He pondered the tactical advantage he had of the situation. He had the high ground. He had the moment of surprise. They would find him eventually. He knew that. They were too many. He checked his equipment, three full clips of ammo for the Assault rifle, one clip for the sidearm, and one grenade. Not enough. There were not enough time to spring a trap.
He felt something. A sudden cold in the back of his neck. Trouble. He had forgotten to check his radar. One red dot, directly behind him. He grabbed his knife faster than the eye could see and slashed while spinning around and saw a Jackal holding its throat with its vile hands. Purple blood was dripping on the floor. It squeaked and fell down, accidently letting loose a barrage of carbine shots.
The Jackal must have sneaked around, searching for survivors to maim. They were well known for being carnivorous.
'Shit'.
He heard barks and squeals from the Elites and Grunts below him, no doubt they had seen the shots. The Elites pointed towards his position, giving orders to the Grunts. Immediately they started closing in on his position. Six turned around from the barricade and entered the ship yard complex, spotting some eager Grunts near him. He threw his grenade towards the foremost of the Grunts and saw it detonating, becoming dismembered. Its methane tank had started catching fire; it exploded, causing a chain reaction when the blast engulfed the tanks of the other Grunts. They all became dismembered and died. 'Not bad' he thought to himself.
The Elites were assessing the situation, having heard the explosions. Six took cover next to the port, pondering the situation. He calculated several different plans. He was not satisfied.
'To hell with it' he thought and stepped outside. He'd rather go out in with guns blazing rather than being hunted down.
He was the hunter, not them.
The Elites noticed him immediately, causing confusion. They opened fire and his energy shields went down. His visor became cracked, and he dropped his rifle. He shook his head trying to get rid of the dizziness. His vision started to fail. He shook his head again. The Elites had stopped firing and started to encircle him. An eager Ultra started rushing towards him, firing. The armor took the brunt of it. Six picked up his assault rifle, firing. The Ultra went down. He noticed movement behind him. An Elite with an energy sword charged. Six produced an elbow to its face knocking it down, disabling its shields and shot it with his sidearm at point blank. There was incoming plasma fire to his side.
He dual wielded the rifle and sidearm shooting down two more Elites, while a third charged and knocked him down. The crash winded him and he landed two meters away, his assault rifle lying next to him. The Elite rushed and tried charging him with an energy dagger. Six produced his leg and kicked it away. Another Elite came up to his right with an energy sword. Six punched him and it became disoriented. The Elite he had kicked away charged again, jumping towards him with its dagger and struck, right next to his head. Had he not rolled round he would be impaled. Six made a backhand strike and it pummeled off. The Elite he had punched had come around, drawing its sword, pushing Six down.
'So this is it. This is how I die.. not bad.' He shut his eyes and braced himself.
He didn't feel pain. He didn't feel a thing, except.. confusion. He opened his eyes seeing a drawn energy sword and the Elite that was about to finish him off. He saw smoke. A long trail of it ending on the Elite's forehead. He then saw the hole in its head and the blood being produced from its mouth, a purple fluid dripping down on the dusty ground. He was, if possible, even more confused. And then it fell down whipping the dust on the ground to the air in circles.
His vision was blurring as the adrenaline started wearing off. That and his Spartan physique was the only thing that had kept him going for so long. A normal human would have fainted hours ago. Blood was running from his nose. He had cuts and scars and bruises all over his young face.
He thinks he is dying. A shadow appeared.
'He dreamt. He dreamt he was a man being something more, an icon. He dreamt he was an icon being a man. He dreamt he had felt pain. He dreamt he had felt victory and defeat.'
He awakened.
He saw an olive colored armored glove, its palm produced.
"Take it Spartan.." The voice said.
Six took a firm hold of the glove, helping himself up. His vision was not blurred anymore. His head still hurt, though. He set his eyes on the man the armored glove belonged to. Surprise and joy took hold of his facial features and he immediately produced a grin.
"Jun. Thank you" Six responded.
"I aim to please, Lieutenant. Get yourself together and follow me, I have a pelican nearby". His voice was calm; slightly more than a whisper. No doubt an after-effect of, as designated sniper and scout, having to remain as stealthy as possible for his (almost) entire life. Six didn't complain about the plan. He had had enough of Aszód for a lifetime.
Six bent down and picked up his assault rifle. 2 rounds left. He checked his surroundings. Seven Elites lay dead, spread out in a ring around where he and Jun were standing. His helmet lay behind him. He picked it up and examined the surface of it.
Dents and bruises were sharing the surface space of it. It had lost color a little here and there. The visor sported a nasty crack in the middle. He put it on.
He made a systems check on it. The radar was functional, showing himself as well as Jun, the latter being a yellow dot. His shield had started recharging and a blue bar at the top-center of it appeared. The helmet connected with his weapons and he saw two rounds clearly, indicating how much ammunition he had left. The grenade bar was empty, for now. Satisfied, he nodded towards Jun and they started making their way towards the Pelican.
"Where are the others?" Jun asked. They both sat in the cockpit of the pelican. Six shook his head.
"Didn't make it." Six answered. Jun didn't as much as flinch. Then he nodded.
"I thought you had left the planet by now. Is Dr. Halsey alive?" Six asked. He had been meaning to ask earlier.
"I completed the mission. Dr. Halsey is safe 3000 meters below a ONI complex, supposedly top-secret, in a complex called CASTLE base, which is the destination we're heading to in case you were wondering." Jun responded. Six had been meaning to ask where they were heading earlier as well.
"Acknowledged" Six responded. He turned his attention to the landscape of the doomed planet.
The sky had a distinctive red color. There were no clouds anymore, just smoke and fire. In the distance the Covenant fleets were reaching the final stage of their glassing. Pockets of grass remained here and there. Soon it would all be gone. All the green and blue and warmth of the world, along with the atmosphere. Six guessed that it would fade away and be gone in two weeks. At most.
Several kilometers away Six could see the Highlands Mountain range. Jun had told him that the top- secret facility resided within Menachite Mountain thanks to his enhanced vision and optical zoom from his visor. He could also see that the Covenant had deployed in the area. Hundreds of them. He noticed some banshees streaking around in the sky, at least fifty Wraiths and over one hundred Ghosts.
"This is going to get rough." Jun stated. Six glanced him.
"Evade them, head right and make a wide turn to the east side of the mountain." Six told him.