I don't really have much of a reason for writing this story. Mostly because
I'm bored and have nothing else to do. It's only rated PG because of some
language and the mention of blood.
Disclaimer: I don't own Halo, Bungie, Master Chief, Cortana, the Pillar of Autumn, Halo, or the drop ship in which the Chief and Cortana make their valiant escape. But it'd be sweet if I did. Who doesn't want their own ring world, artificial intelligence, or Halcyon-class warship? If any information is inaccurate, I apologize. I read the first book and played the game, but I haven't yet read First Strike. I will though. The story is told from the Chief's point of view. It's not meant to be taken as his literal thoughts, but more as the effect that the destruction of Halo had. (If that made any sense.) It begins only seconds after he and Cortana barely escape the fusion reactor's explosion.
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My God, what have I done? Why must I be the only surviving human? This universe is full of spiteful twists that leave you hopeless and abandoned in the dark. But I never expected this. No, I never wanted this. I can hear the pitiful screams of marines still fighting miles and miles away. I can hear the groaning of metal and steel. Guns still fire in the distance. The war is still raging on Halo. I could hear it in the voices of the wind. I could hear the marines, still struggling for what they believed in. For what we believe in. For the human race.
"Care for a look?" Asks Cortana. Of course I don't want to look, I think to myself. I can see shrapnel from the Pillar of Autumn floating past us. Pieces of Halo's crystal blue oceans reflect the sun's blaze into the cockpit. I'm forced to stand, though, and walk to the view port.
"No," I say aloud. The ring slowly collapses on itself. Its closer side collides with its farther side, breaking the world into even smaller pieces and launching them at the gas giant, Threshold. Threshold. What an interesting name for a planet. A gateway, an entrance. The entrance to what? Hell? I sure think so.
"Did anyone else make it?" I ask, though I know the answer.
"Scanning." Replies Cortana. She knows the answer too. "Just...dust and echoes. We're all that's left."
Shit, I think. I felt like the only remaining human in the universe. Millions of soldiers were shipped to this world. And I alone survived.
"We did what we had to do." Cortana assures. "For Earth. An entire covenant armada obliterated, and the Flood....we had no choice." I couldn't stand to look out the window any longer. "Halo....it's finished."
I sighed. "No." I felt beads of sweat forming on my forehead. I reached up to my helmet, and unhinged it from the Spartan armor. I tasted vomit in my mouth; it was the only thing I tasted in a long while other than blood. I sat back in the seat and sighed. "I think we're just getting started." I said to her. I couldn't deny it. War was my calling. Fighting was my destiny. Death was just an obstacle.
Disclaimer: I don't own Halo, Bungie, Master Chief, Cortana, the Pillar of Autumn, Halo, or the drop ship in which the Chief and Cortana make their valiant escape. But it'd be sweet if I did. Who doesn't want their own ring world, artificial intelligence, or Halcyon-class warship? If any information is inaccurate, I apologize. I read the first book and played the game, but I haven't yet read First Strike. I will though. The story is told from the Chief's point of view. It's not meant to be taken as his literal thoughts, but more as the effect that the destruction of Halo had. (If that made any sense.) It begins only seconds after he and Cortana barely escape the fusion reactor's explosion.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
My God, what have I done? Why must I be the only surviving human? This universe is full of spiteful twists that leave you hopeless and abandoned in the dark. But I never expected this. No, I never wanted this. I can hear the pitiful screams of marines still fighting miles and miles away. I can hear the groaning of metal and steel. Guns still fire in the distance. The war is still raging on Halo. I could hear it in the voices of the wind. I could hear the marines, still struggling for what they believed in. For what we believe in. For the human race.
"Care for a look?" Asks Cortana. Of course I don't want to look, I think to myself. I can see shrapnel from the Pillar of Autumn floating past us. Pieces of Halo's crystal blue oceans reflect the sun's blaze into the cockpit. I'm forced to stand, though, and walk to the view port.
"No," I say aloud. The ring slowly collapses on itself. Its closer side collides with its farther side, breaking the world into even smaller pieces and launching them at the gas giant, Threshold. Threshold. What an interesting name for a planet. A gateway, an entrance. The entrance to what? Hell? I sure think so.
"Did anyone else make it?" I ask, though I know the answer.
"Scanning." Replies Cortana. She knows the answer too. "Just...dust and echoes. We're all that's left."
Shit, I think. I felt like the only remaining human in the universe. Millions of soldiers were shipped to this world. And I alone survived.
"We did what we had to do." Cortana assures. "For Earth. An entire covenant armada obliterated, and the Flood....we had no choice." I couldn't stand to look out the window any longer. "Halo....it's finished."
I sighed. "No." I felt beads of sweat forming on my forehead. I reached up to my helmet, and unhinged it from the Spartan armor. I tasted vomit in my mouth; it was the only thing I tasted in a long while other than blood. I sat back in the seat and sighed. "I think we're just getting started." I said to her. I couldn't deny it. War was my calling. Fighting was my destiny. Death was just an obstacle.