They ran for what seemed like ages, crossing the span of several rooms and what looked like research labs occasionally. They were now in one large, rather empty cargo bay, but for the most part the travel had been quiet. There were no signs of any Replicas so far, except perhaps the trail of blood the injured one had left behind. But even it had stopped after either the Replica had bandaged it, or the wound had closed enough for it to stop bleeding. Gravemind had, for the most part, remained quiet till now, only speaking when absolutely necessary.
John was still unsure where they were going to. It seemed they were crossing the width of the ship and had traveled for a significant distance already. The other end – and more than likely Gravemind's objective – could not be far away now. The lack of Replicas had been somewhat convenient thus far. However, that didn't change the fact that with each door they went to, both men remained on high alert.
And that alertness paid of as both were approaching the Cargo bay exit. John took the approach from the right of the door, while Gravemind took the left. The door opened as they approached, sliding open quickly and exposing a short corridor beyond that led into an intersection and several other rooms.
"All units, fall back! Seal that route!"
The call came out over the radio and again echoed from outside and John's head snapped to its source. Some distance from the door, he could see no less than four replicas hot-legging it away from the door and into one of the separate rooms.
John looked at Gravemind before taking a step towards the door to follow them. It was then that the second burst of static came over the radio as one of the Replicas shouted
"All clear! Fire in the hole!"
Neither of them had time to react, or even move as the signature click of a C4 or similarly sized explosive could be heard, and a massive explosion filled the corridor beyond. The shockwave erupted out from the door, lifting both Gravemind and the Master Chief off their feet, only to drop them nearly ten feet away from where they had stood. John grunted in pain as he landed on a container, further aggravating his injuries.
He dulled the pain, though and slowly got up. He looked up at the remains of the door and the corridor, which was now alight with flames and oddly…steam. The fire soon died out a few moments later as green super-coolant flooded the corridor and began to seep in the cargo room. .
Must have hit a coolant line. That would explain it pretty well, actually. He looked around, searching for Gravemind.
Gravemind had been thrown a bit farther than John had been, but had already recovered and was surveying the damage. John considered this carefully…although clearly wearing a highly protective body armor, as well as being extra-ordinarily tough, the soldier hadn't been kitted for EVA or any space work, and hence lacking in any armor that would hold up against the super-coolant. John's armor on the other hand, was more than suited for the task. Gravemind must have seen this as he turned to John and spoke somewhat quickly.
"Death seeks to stop our advance, and it may have succeeded to an extent…" He pointed at the door and the super-coolant before continuing.
"Go through that corridor and past the rooms beyond…it will lead you to a series of ramps that head up straight to the bridge. I will meet you there once you arrive…"
John frowned. The bridge? Didn't they just have an objective, to chase down Alma?
"Why the bridge?"
Gravemind cocked his head to one side, as if considering whether to answer the question or not. Finally, after a minute, he replied.
"The prophet promised Salvation to his people…to save his civilization and bring them the glory beyond death…he sought out the ark, to raise it from its eternal grave using the song of time, space and the darkness of life itself."
Gravemind paused…as if considering what to say next. His tone turned low, dark, much like it had before he had shown John death's eyes.
"Have you heard it? Ever listened to it?"
"Listened to what?"
John asked, obviously not sure what Gravemind was referring to.
"The song of life…the one that plays as it reverberates through the very souls of your species…the very essence of your beings?"
John shook his head, not liking where this was going. Gravemind looked away for a second…as if listening to a conversation or melody that was happening far away.
"I hear it…I hear it reverberate through every human being whose mind is absorbed into my own…the beauty, the symmetry…it lasts with the human will as it fights my presence for the brief few moments before it is overwhelmed…in a select few, the music, the song remains as do their wills and minds…those few that I cannot crush."
John's blood ran cold as he listened to Gravemind's words. Despite what had gone on till now, he had to remind himself of the true nature of the being he was talking to, and of the sheer mental power it wielded.
How many souls have you consumed? How many lives have you crushed to hear that song? John thought, considering what he had said. Gravemind ignored him, however, and continued on.
"The ones you called the 'forerunners'….they could hear it too…hear it call to them across the cosmos and time itself. They reveled in it, as did their creations. They knew only a few other species had that song…that symphony within them, as it were…but not everyone could hear it. That same symphony is the basis of all their technology, which now moves to the rhythm, the movements of time and space itself. Although you cannot hear it, I can."
Gravemind took a step towards him, and John backed up instinctively. What he had just said…could it be true?
"And just as I can hear it, so can they."
"Who?" John asked…but he already suspected who Gravemind was referring to.
"Ah…but you know that already, don't you?"
John could almost feel the smile through the mask.
It couldn't be. John thought, taking a step back as the truth finally revealed himself to him.
"oh…but it is…soon, with time…you too will hear it, and witness the things I have seen, and hear the song as it is so close…unfortunately for us, when death denied us what we wanted…"
Gravemind's tone suddenly changed. It became darker…angrier. John could feel a rage building at its base, originating from how many centuries of isolation and insanity…
"It took away the song that filled us with purpose and led us through this world. It took away what was ours…it left us alone, it left us to listen a universe that was empty and as soundless as the vacuum of space. We hungered then…we hungered for so long for that song, for the souls that once littered and filled the galaxy from one end to the other…for thousands of years we watched and waited as creatures came to us…but when we fed on them, we found nothing but silence…and then, you came."
Gravemind's voice changed, and he gave out a short laugh as John stepped back. Although horrified.
"Why do you think they call your species as the reclaimers, John 117? Why do you think that you were chosen amongst so many others to become a SPARTAN? Why do you think that the few guardians that were left behind recognize your word above the covenants?"
Gravemind came closer, driving John back up against the wall. There was noplace to go as Gravemind came face to face with the Spartan and spoke lowly, quickly.
"It is because we hear the songs that echo through your souls. It is because they, like us, hunger for those songs. But unlike the guardians left behind to 'contain' us, we have no qualms when it comes to simply taking those songs from you, till either there is none left, or till Death takes us."
Gravemind paused once more, and then stepped back and away from John.
"The song sings very loudly through your soul, my friend…it is one of the reasons that death has not been able to claim you as of yet."
He paused for a second, then nodded.
"On the bridge, the prophet has with him a relic left behind by the ones that came before…a relic which holds within it the songs of their race, and the final legacy of their fallen empire. Find this relic, and Alma will seek refuge near it, as it will keep Death away from her. She has already sought for it, and failed…but you may have a better chance at finding it…she will most likely stop you on the way. But you, like the vassal that I now control, are strong enough to deter her. Go, I will meet you there."
With that, Gravemind turned and ran off towards the intact exit, leaving a very puzzled and confused John behind.
What did I just learn? he contemplated…John really didn't know which was more frightening; what had happened thus far, or what Gravemind had told him about not only the forerunners, but his entire race.
Will the beast betray us to satisfy his hunger?
John couldn't help but question Gravemind's purposes in this case, and what would happen should he finally get what he want…
Will he die and bring an end to this…or will he simply become stronger, and be the end of us all?
John really didn't know. He didn't want to know. But something told him he'd be finding out soon enough anyway. Putting the thoughts aside, he focused on the mission at hand. Too many lives were at stake…and if there even a small chance of saving them, he had to follow Gravemind.
However, that didn't mean he couldn't cheat at the game. In the end, he always won, and this would indeed be no different.
As the combat forms disappeared behind Gravemind, John checked his battle rifle. He still had two full clips left, excluding the one in the rifle itself. He had, over the past several rooms, managed to pick up four plasma grenades, though, which meant that he could use them in case his ammo ran out.
Sighing, John moved out, heading towards the door. He stepped over the frozen rubble, as he waded into the coolant. The suit's auto-temperature functions kicked in as did the now-recharged shields, holding the freezing cocld off at bay. The damage had been pretty severe here, as judged by the immense holes on the walls. A significant amount of debris blocked his way, upon which a waterfall of super-coolant cascaded down from the ceiling and through it, till it finally met the floor and the pool of Coolant gathered there.
Shaking his head, John began to climb up the pile of debris, slinging his rifle as he did so. When he reached the small gap at the top, he checked the motion tracker as well as checking for any sounds in the area. Fortunately, there was nothing beyond the pile, and as he climbed through and gracefully dropped down onto the floor, nothing reacted to his presence either.
Removing the battle rifle, he kept it at the ready, and considered which way to go. There were three doors in front of him, each probably leading a different sector of the ship. Deciding to take the most straightforward route, he chose the door in the middle, and walked in. The room beyond was small, consisting of several consoles and repair gear. A wraith tank stood to one side, inactive, along with a few of the smaller ghosts. Although using the vehicles would be tempting, in the small corridors of the ship, it would only serve to slow him down a bit.
Snaking along the wall, John checked the room and made sure it was clear before nodding and carefully approaching the door from the side. It lit up and slid open, as he approached from the side.
"What was that?" John immediately heard as his radio crackled with activity once more. Rather than wait for them to finish, he snaked the optical cord around the door's edge and took a quick peak.
The room beyond was more of a lab than anything else, with various consoles and tables scattered all over the place. At the centre, a single glowing sphere hovered in a statis field of some sort, surrounded by several sensors and instruments, as well as consoles from which engineers or scientists would study it.
However, what was more important was what was in front of it. Several tables had been moved and knocked over, forming large barricades behind which no less than a dozen Replicas had taken cover, and all had their weapons pointed at the door. These replicas were different, though. Unlike the others, which had gas masks, these just wore a mask over their mouths, and what was obviously a primitive set of NVGs over their eyes. They held several of the HV weapons he had seen earlier, but in addition to that, he could recognize a variety of twentieth century shotgun, as well as sub-machine guns and some sort of strange rifle he couldn't immediately recognize.
"Flush him out!"
One of them said. It was then that John saw it. It wasn't like the other Replicas at all, but it more than definitely was one. Unlike the others, all of whom wore regular body armor, this one was dressed in a massive suit that looked like it was powered armor. The helmet had four bright blue eye pieces – two were probably for normal situations while the other two seemed to be advanced sensors to detect targets at night, or possibly through walls. The heavy armor Replica held a massive gun in its hand, significantly larger than any he'd human weapon he'd seen to date. It had a solid build, with three massive barrels in the front, similar in width and size to that of a rocket launcher's. He stared at it through the optical scope in awe, for a second. If it was a rocket launcher, that meant that he was significantly outgunned and probably even outclassed in this scenario. He then saw one of the Replicas behind the tables duck and then come back up, this time with a grenade in hand.
"Grenade out!"
John cursed and then dived away from the door just as the grenade was thrown. The door closed, and he could hear it as it bounced off and then exploded right on the other side. The doors bloomed outwards from the explosion, physically deforming to a certain extent. The sound and pressure wave managed to make it through however, and washed over John's shields, draining them partially.
Coming up, he held the rifle towards the door and then lowered it when he realized that it was probably jammed.
Looks like I'll need another way around. John thought. He double-backed to the intersection and took the door to the right and entered another storage room just like the middle one, except that there were two wraiths here and no ghosts. He kept a hidden position near the closets Wraith, in case there were people in the room.
Unfortunately for him, this one was not as empty as he had thought. Two replicas exited from the doors opposite on the other side, one armed with a shotgun and the other with an assault rifle. Again, the radio crackled as an outside signal came in.
"Echo 1 and 2, note that hostile might be trying to double back and flank the main group. Keep a sharp lookout and report back every five minutes."
A burst of static, and one of the Replicas replied.
"Roger. We'll keep a look out. Echo 2 out."
The situation wasn't good. John would much rather fight Covenant. At least they were predictable and hardly ever adapted. These Replicas, on the other hand, could more than easily pose a problem for even the toughest Earth special forces. He couldn't help but imagine how much damage they could do to the Covenant, though. Their weaponry was far advanced than what the USNC had, and the training was obviously better as well – to say nothing of their resilience. John had no illusions that if given power armor just like theirs, an equal number of Replicas could probably outperform SPARTANS simply out of sheer toughness alone.
Yet, he now had to get through probably a horde of them. He stepped closer to the wraith, and wasn't paying attention when suddenly, his boot hit the tank, causing a soft clang as metal met metal. It was too tiny to be heard, really, and any Covenant grunt or elite probably wouldn't even have heard it.
But these were grunts or Elites.
"What was that?"
One of the Replicas asked, and both instantly went onto high alert.
"Echo 1, check it out."
One of them barked.
"Roger, cover me."
Shit. John cursed. This wasn't good, not good at all. He crouched, keeping his hearing up as the Replica slowly began to creep towards his position, weapon raised. The replica was on the other side of the tank now, and judging from his sound, was probably headed around the tank. However, it was then that John heard the other one coming from the opposite direction, which he double confirmed with the motion tracker. He cursed mentally. They were good…perhaps a little too good.
Thinking quickly, John quietly reached up the tank and climbed up. He successfully managed to get on to the top of the tank just as they rounded it, only to find nothing. They looked at each other for the moment, before nodding and moving off. John breathed a sigh of relief, and waited tensely as they moved off. Once they had gotten a few feet away from the tank, he began to climb off and to the other side…
At that point of time, his luck ran out when a part of his weapons containment suddenly failed, and a plasma grenade slipped out from where it was held, clattering onto the ground.
The Replicas immediately whirled around and spotted him.
"Hostile Contact! He's trying to flank!"
One of them shouted before they both simultaneously opened fire. The roar of the shotgun was loud, immensely so. Just from the sound alone, John could judge that its caliber and raw power was far, far greater than any shotgun he had seen to date. And judging by how it and the rifle ripped through the wraith's armor where had been just milliseconds ago, he really didn't want to be on the wrong end of it.
John rolled off the tank and came up firing. He fired several three-round bursts at the Replicas, who were now strafing sideways and firing at him as well. The first two bursts missed as they both dived away. The return fire didn't, however, as bullet rounds pinged off his shields, but they held out well enough and were being drained slowly.
And then John was hit by a massive punch that forced him backpedal as the other Replica pumped the shotgun and fired a shot right at the centre of his shield. A major portion of the shield went down with that single blast.
Prioritize targets first.
John thought to himself…he was doing this wrongly. He was out in the open with no cover in sight. Focusing on the Replica with the shotgun, he leaded slightly with the sight, and opened fire again. The replica reacted – but only enough to get out of the way of one of the bullets. It screamed in pain and went down as the two bullets penetrated its head, the shotgun clattering to the ground.
"Man down, Flank him!"
The remaining Replica shouted out. It was at this point of time that the motion sensor lit up, indicating another incoming contact from behind him. John cursed. What was happening to him? Why had he left his flank uncovered and vulnerable?
He fired another two bursts, catching the Replica in the torso and forcing him to stagger a bit as the armor caught it. The next nine rounds lodged themselves firmly inside the Replica's head, killing him instantly – but not before bringing his shields down to almost none. It was then that a course of pain shot through his shoulder as a HV spike hit his shields, bouncing off and draining them completely. He dived to his left, while several more spikes whizzed by the air where he had just been. He turned around mid-air as the gun moved to follow him. Raising the rifle, he squeezed the trigger and didn't stop firing at the Replica. The bullet rounds hit the replica right in the chest, but it didn't waver one bit as it continued to trace and fire at him. His shields managed to recharge a bit just as a spike struck his right leg, absorbing the impact but yet twisting it from the force. The next one went right between his feet, while he was just able to raise his left leg enough that it just scraped by his calf.
His own bullets, by now, had caused the Replica to stagger and the gun went wild, and he had gotten a headshot on it. Blood splattered from the exit wounds at the back of the Replica's head, but it continued to fire, recovering from the stagger and swinging the gun back to face John. By this time he had already landed onto the floor and was just two feet away from the Replica. With blinding speed, John recovered, got up and kicked at the Replica's hand just as it swung the rifle around. The HV Pentrator scattered as the hand holding it broke. John's hand swung out to punch the replica with blinding speed – only to hit air as the Replica ducked and round-housed kicked John right in the stomach. With the shields still not recharged, John felt the force of the blow and grunted in pain as it hit his still tender injuries. The kick was hard, with strength. However, John replied back in kind and brought the butt of the battle rifle to smash the replica in the face.
He failed, however, when the Replica reacted with just as much speed and leaned to the side, just barely missing the rifle. However, it was at this time that John had regained his balance, allowing him to lash out against with his feet, this time doing a straight-up kick at the Replica's chin. The Replica saw it coming, but was apperantly too injured to move quickly as its response suddenly slowed – probably from blood loss. This time he made contact, however, which was followed immediately by the satisfying snap of the Replica's neck breaking. The lifeless body then slumped to the ground, leaving a heavily panting John as the last thing standing in the room.
Three replicas. Just three of them had fought him, with only one coming into hand-to-hand combat, yet this had probably been one of the hardest fight in his life. How many dozens of grunts had he torn apart by his own hands, not to mention the countless elites he'd have to battle hand-to-hand and come out victor…yet, he had fought only three of these on his own, and despite having won, it felt like he was more lucky than anything else, having caught the jump on them and then also critically injuring them first. The last replica had been crippled by the bullet wounds he had taken – having injuries far worse than the elite he had fought on the Ascendant Justice, where he had nearly died in a similarly pitched battle with a single elite commander. Yet, these were just basic grunts. If he went into a similar battle with the heavy armored replicas, John had no disillusions on who would win that battle.
Still, he considered the situation. It was quiet obvious his battle rifle wasn't enough anymore. It barely penetrated through their armor, and anything short of a headshot didn't even hurt them. Looking around, he saw the HV Penetrator lying on the floor nearby. Picking it up, John gawked as he felt how heavy it was for its size. He studied it from end to end and then removed the ammo clip. It was then he realized that most of the weight was coming from its ammo. Each spike probably weighed around a kilo each, with a total of twenty-five spikes per clip. He glanced at the extra ammo the Replica was carrying, and realized just how lucky he was. The replica had to have been carrying at least seventy five kilos of weight in ammunition alone…and yet his speed had been insanely fast.
Augmentation or not, this weapon was not ideal if he was going to be concentrated on moving fast – the weight would only serve to slow him down. Moving back to the other Replica, he picked up the rifle there and studied it. It was long and quite slim, with the ammo barrels being exactly that – two small, cylindrical barrels that were attached either side to a common mechanism that loaded the rounds straight into the rifle's barrel. It was an efficient design, and kept the entire frame light and slim. He put away his own battle rifle and slung this one around his shoulder, taking as much ammo off the Replica as he could.
He then turned to the last Replica, the one with the shotgun. A small pool of blood had already begun to form around it's head, somewhat indicative of the wounds that he had inflicted onto it. Walking over to it, he kneeled down next to it, taking a brief glance at the shield indicator in his HUD as it began to recharge.
That glance nearly cost him his life. He was about to reach for the shotgun and pick it up, when, suddenly, the Replica's arm moved at an unimaginable speed, raising the shotgun and pointing at directly at John's chest. It's visor was completely cracked from the bullets that had penetrated it, and for a brief moment, John could see cold, emotionless eyes as it stared right up at him. For that brief moment, another pair of eyes stared back at it, from inside John's own head. He recognized instantly as death's, much as it had earlier in the lift.
And then, the Replica fired at John's chest, point blank.
The blast was completely and totally deafening at that range – much more so than any USNC shotgun, and the force completely drained his shields, and then hit his armor so hard that for several seconds, John couldn't breathe as the sheer energy drove his half-ton armor backwards and onto his haunches.
Combat reflexes kicked in, and a foot smashed out, making contact with the Replica's head and crushing it. The replica immediately went limp, now obviously dead. Struggling for breath, John sat back, leaning on his arms as he checked the damage report coming into his HUD. He had already taken significant damage to the armor when Alma had hit him earlier…but now the shotgun blast had only worsened it. His right lung had come very close to collapsing from the sheer intensity of the single blast.
What was more amazing, and shocking was that he obviously hadn't expected that at all.
But then, when you kill your enemies, you normally expect them to stay dead, rather than just playing it. It was a mistake he could no longer afford to make. These Replicas were tricky bastards, and smart ones too. He would have to make sure to take special measures to ensure they were dead, next time around. However, he really wasn't sure how much was enough – they were almost as bad as the flood – who were notoriously tough to kill.
Getting up, he took the shotgun and emptied the replica's ammo pouch. The shotgun was hefty and gave him a feeling of power that he didn't get from most other weapons. Seeing it's effects from the wrong end sort of re-enforced that feeling, perhaps. Either way, he pumped the barrel and ejected the spent cartridge, reloading the weapons and remaining shells. John shook his head and moved towards the door where the Replicas had come from. Something told him this was going to be a long, long detour.
