AN: THIS IS A SEQUAL so please read Halo: Forerunner Powers before this if you haven't already. While still technically a Eragon/Halo crossover, this will be more on the Halo side. Mostly Halo. Actually, it will be almost only Halo. Sorry Inheritance Fans, but you are not forgotten. It is not only Halo. Either way, read and please review. No flames. Constructive criticism appreciated. This story has plenty of swearing. Not a lot, but you have been warned.
As for Halo: Forerunner Powers, even I can't stand my earlier chapters. I guess that's what happens when you start writing in middle school and end in high school. So if you didn't read the first story, be my guest and skim it. Read the last chapter more carefully, because it was also the only chapter I was truly satisfied with.
Chapter One: Not Quite The Same World
It is December of the year 2555. Three years ago, the thirty year conflict for existence knows as the Human-Covenant War ended. I only got to fight for a short period of time in the war. Even with my small combat experience, I learned enough to know that our race cannot handle another catastrophe on such a scale. I can still remember the celebrations that came with the news of the war's end like it was yesterday.
Even though we nearly lost, that day just made me proud to be... well... human. There is no other way to describe it. And now, one year later, I watch the sings of rebuilding right outside my home's window. I sit and watch, and wonder... Humanity has passed the most difficult test it has ever faced. Now I wonder what is left out there. Is it worse than the Covenant, or better? I know which I would prefer.
This is why I became a journalist despite the need for jobs relating with the rebuilding effort. I personally feel that if no one will record this unique time period, then it will be forgotten. I don't want to forget. Nor do I want the future to forget once I will be gone. It is important for humanity to remember how it reacted after near extinction.
Eragon kept his head low as he tried to look inconspicuous inside the crowded bar. This was the second time he was forced to hide from the Empire. The first was due to seeking revenge against the Raz'ac, now due to an ambush. Forced off Saphira for her safety, he was able to escape the Empire magicians that attacked him. Once again, he cursed the humans of the UNSC, cursed them for forcing the war to end. In reality, it didn't end. Galbatorix used the opportunity to dismantle his army. He replaced it with many small bands of loyal soldiers that would wreck havoc on the Varden whenever possible. The Varden and the elves were not able to simply start taking over cities: it was pointless. They would take one, move on to the next, only to return to takeover the first one again.
It was an ambush group that forced Eragon to traverse the Empire without Saphira. While taking a short stop to rest from flying, they attacked the two of them, using strange magic that Eragon was not able to combat. He had Saphira fly to safety and ran, relying on his greater speed to gain distance between his attackers.
And now he was stuck in a town, sitting on a stool in a crowded bar. Feeling the minds of people around him, he imminently retreated at the presence of other magicians.
"Need anything?" The bartender gave Eragon a strange look.
Eragon shook his head. "No."
A person sitting next to him raised his hand. "Get me a drink, will you?" The man then turned to Eragon, but his face was hidden by a hood. "I need a good drink, you know? Ever since the battle at the burning plains. The sky people, you know? Creeps me out, they do." he paused. "Don't feel like chatting? That's fine by me."
Not to arouse suspicion, Eragon remained in his seat, waiting for the strange man to leave. Something was not right about him. An Empire magician? Eragon didn't dare to find out. Despite the pitiful form of entertainment presented by the bards in the bar, he thought that he heard music originating from the man. A calming, soothing music created by an instrument he couldn't recognize. And yet, the man did not have anything to create it. But it could have just been his imagination and overly-sensitive senses.
Finally, after an eternity the man finished his drink and got up. Relaxing a bit, Eragon tensed as he saw a piece of paper was folded in front of him. It was clearly left by the man, and as Eragon started to turn to find the stranger and give the paper back, he noticed the writing on the other side. It was four letters. The four letters that Eragon despised at the moment:
UNSC.
A few Months Ago....
A doorbell ring woke Burton from his slumber. He looked at his clock on the wall of his apartment. It was just past midnight. The doorbell rang again. "I'm coming, hold on," yawned Burton as he pushed himself off the desk he fell asleep on, still in his regular clothing and all. Wobbling towards the door, he finally opened it, and saw who came.
"Sergent Stacker?" he asked, right as he snapped into a salute. The sergent waved him off.
"Forget it. You are not in the marines any more. Mind if I come in?"
Burton motioned him in. "Not at all, come in. Come in."
Stacker looked around Burton's small apartment. It had two desks. One had a few papers and a computer on it. The other one was covered with various tools and metal stacked in order. Next to the desk, a few packaging boxes lay, discarded. A small bed was shoved in a corner, a newspaper lying on it. In all, the place was very neat and tidy. Stacker than looked at Burton. The ex-marine looked like a wreck. "Your place looks nice, but you are a whole different story," said Stacker.
Burton grinned sheepishly. "I just left barely half a year ago. Didn't have much time to mess anything up since then. As for myself, I had a rough time adjusting back to regular life, and my job just barely pays the bills."
Stacker laughed. "I wonder what will finish what the Covenant started. Some stray ship full of brutes or out wrecked economy. I don't think anyone right now has a job they can retire on. Nice arm by the way."
Burton looked at his right arm, or the metallic prosthetic that replaced it. "I lost it on the replacement Halo the one with the Ark. Right at the end of the war. You do know that there were more Halos?"
Stacker sighed. "Yeah, I've bean on three. Two if you count the third as as the same as the first one."
"Th-there were three halos? I thought there was only one, and the Ark replaced it."
Stacker sat on one of the few chairs in the room. "There were three. And I had the bad luck to fight on all of them. Get this: The flood? On every last damn ring. I knew that you were on the third one, but didn't get a chance to meat you. Listen, there are actually seven Halos. The first is destroyed, and another one is where the Covenant city of High Charity used to be."
Burton sleepy brain took a while to click a few things together. "Don't tell me they want us to go on it?" he asked.
Stacker shook his head. "No. Actually, it's about the world we were on after the first Halo." He reached into his pocket and took out a photograph. It showed nineteen marines and the Chief assembled in front of a Longsword fighter and posing; at least the marines were. Another, smaller picture of another marine was taped on the edge of the main photograph. "Remember this place?"
Burton looked at the pictures. "I completely forgot about this place," he finally said. "Besides, we don't know where it is. We had use use the Ascendant Justice's maps to get back. We don't have those."
"The elites gave us the coordinates before leaving. Now ONI wants us to get back there, and well, I have no idea what else. They already have a ship prepared and some crew. They want all of us who were there before to go."
Burton looked at the pictures again, this time at the faces of the people in them. "How many of us are left? I know that well, Harland, Ryan, Gordon and Jones died on that world. Wait, Foley and Rogers also died. Polaski, Haverson, and Locklear died getting during the first strike. But Johnson died on the ark, and the Chief is, well, he is also dead.. How many of us are left?"
Stacker sighed. "Patterson is still alive. Same with Banks. But that is it. Just the four of us."
Burton sank into a chair. "Just four?"
Stacker nodded. "Which is why we are getting a few others for the mission," he said. "Meet me at the SF station in a week."
Burton looked at the only ship in sight with dismay as he drove his civilian hog down to the parking lot of the station. The prowler looked small compared to the other ships Burton served on. "Is this our ship?" he asked Stacker, who just ran over upon seeing Burton.
Stacker got into the passenger seat. "Yeah, that's out ship. Drive you car down to it, where there are other vehicles, you're going to bring it with us. Nice ride, by the way," he added as an afterthought. AS another afterthought, he handed Burton a duffel bag. "Welcome back to the marines," he said with a smile.
As Burton parked his Hog next to the other vehicles next to the others, he looked at the people assembled. There was a large group, about a hundred, but he spotted Peterson and Banks fairly quickly. They were organizing the rest of the people, who did not seem to be happy at being bossed around by a sergent and a pilot.
Stacker hopped out of the Hog. "Everyone line up!" He shouted in order for everyone to hear him.
Burton took his position at a far end of the line, but Peterson dragged him to where Stacker and Banks were standing. Stacker took a hurried roll call to make sure that everyone were there, then he proceeded with his introductory speech.
"All of you know about the Halos. Alien hell-holes that are better off destroyed. What you don't know is where us four found ourselves at after the first Halo. We found ourselves on an obscure planet in the middle of nowhere," Stacker told the others. "On it, we discovered a primitive society of humans and other similar races. For once, we met a new species without imminently waging war. This you should have all read in your mission profile."
Burton caught the reference to the butchered attempts at making peaceful contact with Covenant vessels at the beginning of the war. Stacker continued with his speech.
"Obviously we couldn't hang around there. However, now ONI gave us a mission to reestablish contact. Their very intelligent members left the mission goal at that, along with all the stuff that you see above and behind you. Our ship is a frigate called The Final Frontier."
Burton looked behind the people at the assembled material. Two large piles were lying on the pavement. One looked like personal belongings of the people going on the mission. The other, much larger pile looked like military equipment and vehicles. A few warthogs and cases of weaponry were piled next to many more large unidentified boxes. The things that Burton found the most weird were the aircraft behind the boxes. The numerous aircraft were neither hornet, pelican or longsword. The aircraft were in fact, true aircraft: a few glistening, but old, Skyhawk ground attack aircraft, a few Firehawk air superiority fighters, and some more troop transport Hornets and their attack variants.
Next to Burton, Stacker finished his speech. "Alright, lets get everything into the ship and get going. It's no use cooking on this pavement."
As the others went to load the ship, Burton stopped Peterson. "What kind of stuff do we have here?" he asked.
Peterson shrugged. "Some old scraps and some classified things. I really don't have much of an idea."
Burton looked again at the aircraft. "What's with the planes? They look like they came out of a museum, and there are a lot of them."
Peterson laughed. "Actually, I asked for those. They wouldn't give any transatmoshperics like pelicans or longswords, so instead I asked for atmospheric planes. Also, you wouldn't know, but the longsword flies worse in the atmosphere. If were are going to be in a planet's atmosphere, why not use something that is suited best for it? I got the planes from the UN Defense Air Force." With that, Peterson turned an went to help with the loading.
Burton looked through the Frontier's bridge windows at the lonely planet the ship was now orbiting. All the humans on the ship were fresh out of cryo and preparing for landfall.
"How long did it take us to get here?" he asked Stacker, who was sitting in the captain's seat, as the de facto leader of the expedition.
The AI assigned to control the ship answered instead. "You were in cryo for almost two months. Keep in mind that this ship is faster now with the new drives."
Stacker grunted. "Doesn't stop it from falling apart, Mark." It quickly became clear from the moment everyone got into the ship that while it looked fine on the outside, it was obvious why they got the ship: the insides were in serious need of minor repairs to look even presentable. In short, the ship was "barely running", as the few techs on the mission said.
"So where do you suppose we land?" asked Mark the AI. The UNSC could only spare a second-rate dumb AI to pilot the ship. They didn't give it a human captain.
Stacker looked at the continents on the scanner screen. It showed the entire half of the planet that the ship faced in good lighting. Stacker ran a finger along the coastlines of the continents. "It has to be an are where enough land is east of the ocean..." he muttered. After a while, he found it. "Take us there," he said, tapping the screen. His touch was registered by the ship's computer and the coordinates were transmitted to Mark.
"When do you want to get there?" the AI asked.
Stacker thought for a moment. "When we are least visible," he finally said.
"Suit yourself."
Burton looked at the planet for a last glimpse before metal plates covered the view screens. "You think this will work? Establish a continuous, peaceful contact?" he asked Stacker.
Stacker turned around in his seat to face Burton. "What do you think?" he asked.
*Transport Hornet – my addition to a more realistic arsenal for Halo. Think of it as a hornet with a larger, longer body and cockpit for two. IT can carry up to twenty people overloaded.
Reviews greatly appreciated. Please review.