A/N:
Minor changes made. Fixed up a few pronoun issues that I missed. I also want to stress that this story is a "same-AU". Covenant and UNSC have some rudimentary access to mass effect and biotics, but nothing on the level of the Citadel races.
…
Finish the Fight
…
"Centuries of bleeding edge scientific research, most of it rendered obsolete against the Covenant. We had tanks fitted with reactive armour, active missile defence systems, and the best composite armour we had ever developed. It was useless against the Covenant. Our pulse lasers? They were flashlights compared to the Covenant."
-Anonymous
…
December 11th, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)
Aboard UNSC Halberd-class destroyer Normandy
Voi, Africa
Earth
There wasn't much the UNSC could spare for this fight. Just a poultry light assault carrier, with barely half a compliment. Two frigates, Ageis Fate, and Forward Unto Dawn. And a destroyer, the Normandy.
Looking out across the war-torn plains of Africa, veteran Captain David Anderson let out a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. He was tired, they all were. One way or another, the war was going to end. Thirty years of all-out warfare was taking its toll on both sides. Even with the Covenant's near endless supply of troops and resources, they had to be feeling the strain.
"This is Forward Unto Dawn, standing by on your orders, sir," Miranda Keyes broadcasted.
"Standard formation, stay close to the Elites," Anderson said. "Follow in after us. Joker, take us out."
"Aye, aye, sir. Bringing her to bear. Thrusters at cruising speed."
Anderson felt the g-forces as the ship surged forward over the African plains. The orders were simple, do whatever it takes to kill the Prophet of Truth. Following the Separatist Ships, the portal above Earth began to fill out the viewports.
"Here we go," the Captain breathed.
The Normandy's prow touched the portal, wispy tendrils dancing along her length as she entered space that existed beyond the void. Blue skies were replaced by an infinite blackness, dotted with the silvery silhouettes of the Separatist fleet.
…
"Coming out of slipspace in ten seconds," Jeff announced. "Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one."
The black void faded and gave way to a backdrop of stars, and a breathtaking view below.
The Ark…
The superstructure was shaped like a flower with its eight petals covered in a surface much like Earth. At the core, was a planet stripped of its resources, and high above it was a small star.
"Look at the size of that thing," Joker whispered.
"Easily bigger than Earth," Pressly added.
"Hey… above… that… isn't that our Galaxy?"
From his seat, Anderson looked up the viewport and felt a soft chill ripple through his body. In all its splendour was the Milky Way.
"Captain," Carlton interrupted, the AI's avatar appearing on the nearby display.
Anderson turned his attention to the blue and silver avatar of a man dressed in Naval Officer Battle Dress Uniform.
"Yes?"
"Ship Master Rtas 'Vadum has recommended that the UNSC task force hold position before deploying on the Ark."
"Copy that," Anderson said.
David remained in his seat and with a calm expression. Tensions were high as the Normandy dropped away from the Separatist formations. Plasma torpedoes glided through the blackness as pulse lasers stabbed through the void. The battle between the two Covenant Fleets was like a raging fireworks display with neon lights.
The Captain gripped the edge of his armrest, trying to keep his breathing calm. Scores of Loyalist Seraph fighters had broken through the Separatist lines, spewing plasma onto the Normandy's hull. Ablative armour boiled away as the bolts splashed onto the plates. Sensors across the ships showed hull integrity dropping at an alarming rate.
"Portside point-defence guns hit. They're out, sir," warned the weapons officer.
"Deploy countermeasures from port side pod-three," Anderson ordered.
"Copy that, sir," Ensign Kathy Richwell complied.
From small ejection ports, flares were shot out into the darkness, illuminating the sea of blackness with a brilliant white light. Knowing the damages the flares could cause to their crafts, the Seraph pilots pulled away from the orbs of burning metal. The differences in approach vectors left the fighters vulnerable to the point defence guns.
Under the guidance of the naval officers, the turret computers launched a firestorm of high explosive shells into the Seraph formations. The devastating 50mm rounds tore the crafts apart in a brilliant ball of flame.
Dozens of Seraphs began to fly listlessly, creating a temporary protective barrier against other fighters. But despite the aggressiveness of Brutes, some of their own possessed a higher-than-average intelligence. Fighters broke off from strafing runs and fired plasma charges into the field of destroyed crafts, punching a hole through the barrier. Point Defence Crews were quick to prioritise targets, bringing the guns to bear on any aircraft that broke through.
Matthew kept his eyes firmly on the tactical display, setting up fields of fire for his gunners.
"The Master Chief is on the ground," Keyes radioed.
"Lieutenant Gladstone, fire concentration on the ship to our one o'clock! Charge up our main gun."
"Yes, sir."
Trebuchet MAC guns swivelled in their turrets and zeroed in on the lightly armoured ship. Half dozen salvos of tungsten ferric round streaked out into the blackness of space and smashed against the enemy ship. Shields flared as they absorbed the impact before being completely drained away.
"Joker brings us to point," Anderson ordered. "Give us a depression of fifteen degrees. I want the gun aimed at the gut."
"Aye, sir."
The ship's thrusters flared, pushing the ship into position.
"Fire main gun!"
"Firing!"
The Normandy hummed and groaned as a trio of depleted uranium slugs were slung at the Covenant ship. The impact was virtually instantaneous across the short distance. The corvette's hull caved in, warped by the intense thermodynamic release of the round. The atmosphere instantly left the ship through the gaping hole, spinning her on her lateral axis.
A small smile graced Anderson's features.
Another kill.
"Joker, get us behind the Shadow of Intent," the Captain ordered, hoping that the core formation of the Sangheili ships would cover them.
"Aye, aye sir."
Normandy's engines flared to life. Her power core thrumming as she glided through the blackness above the station. Seraph fighters deviated from their original course and gave chase. But their hopes of glory were cut short as the rear point-defence guns spurned into action.
"We got torpedoes incoming!"
"Deploying countermeasures!"
The rear guns focused fire on the incoming torpedoes, throwing canister shells into the oncoming path of the plasma salvo. The canisters detonated, spewing a shotgun blast of ablative ceramic balls into the super dense gas. Absorbing the heat, the ceramics boiled away dissipating most of the plasma.
Anderson felt the ship shudder from impact.
"Section-five reduced integrity. No breaches," the ship AI announced.
"Joker, bring us up behind the Shadow of Intent."
"Aye, aye."
The UNSC destroyer took a safe position behind the Separatists capital ships, covering them from any opportunistic Seraph fighters.
…
Installation 00
John crouched on the sandy plateau with a sniper rifle in hand, waiting for reinforcements. Dozens of wrecked Covenant vehicles, Brutes, Grunts, and Jackals lay dead on the field, their blood soaking into the white amber plains.
"Commander, you're cleared," the Master Chief broadcasted.
"Copy, coming in," said Miranda.
The frigate appeared as a dot in the sky but soon loomed into a hulking mass. Her thrusters flared to life as they slowed her down, kicking up dirt and debris. Once she was still, her main ramp descended, revealing a Grizzly Tank for him to use, with additional drones to accompany him.
"Armoured was kind enough to lend a Grizzly," Sergeant Stacker gestured. "Hit 'em where it hurts, Chief."
Jogging lightly over to the heavily armed battle tank, the Spartan opened the hatch and climbed into the control seat. Linking his neural interface to the vehicle, he felt his senses tingle as information flowed. Marines embarked on their Infantry Fighting Vehicles, and Warthogs while the ODST manned the other stations inside the tanks.
343 Guilty Spark hovered around the vehicle, steadily sweeping the area.
"Roll out Chief, we've got you covered," Johnson channelled from his Pelican.
The engines roared to life, spurning the heavy tank across the field.
"Ghosts inbound!" an ODST warned.
John spun the main gun to bear and squeezed the trigger. The tank rocked as a thunderous roar rippled across the canyon. Hypervelocity shells bored into the Ghosts and detonated, ripping the light vehicles asunder.
"Woo!" a Helljumper cheered.
The remote control MG turret spooled to life, spewing out .50 Cal to devastating effect. Grunts ran from cover, arms flailing as the AP rounds punched through the rocks.
The railgun capacitors' coolant cycled through as the autoloaders rammed in another round into the chamber.
"Run ya Covie bastards."
"Stay frosty, possible ambush ahead," Cortana warned.
The unmanned Scorpions took the front of the formation
"Whoa, look at this," said a Lieutenant, manning the battle net. "Shit. Scarab!"
"Hang on, I got you covered," Anderson chimed. "Gladstone, I want firing solutions on that Scarab."
Highlighted feeds appeared on John's HUD, a pulsating blue line marking the firing trajectory, ending somewhere on the other side of the plateau.
"Keep your heads down, gun's hot," a weapons officer warned coolly.
A fiery streak struck from the skies, slamming into the Scarab. Dust and sand kicked up into the air, tossed in the wake of the shockwave. Watching from the feed, John could see nothing but a cloud obscuring the Scarab, but no doubt it was destroyed, its energy signature flat-lining.
"Target down, thanks for the assist," John said.
"Pleasure."
"All units, on me."
Steering the Grizzly into another canyon, John kept his finger resting on the fire controls as he scanned the fields of destroyed Wraiths. It was nice having Orbital Support on his side this time, but it was no reason to be slack. Anything that looked remotely intact, John sent an AP round through it, just in case.
"Reclaimer, I detect no presence in those husks, your caution is unnecessary," 343 said.
"Never hurts to be careful," the Chief answered in his baritone voice.
"Heads up Chief," Johnson's voice crackled over the COMs. "Pelicans inbound with the Arbiter."
Bringing the tank to a halt outside the doors of te installation, John clambered out of his seat and stood on top of the hull. He watched the Pelicans swoop in low and fast, throwing up sand in their wake. The dropships engaged their thrusters and presented the ramp to the group, allowing a fresh team of ODSTs and the Arbiter to disembark.
The massive Elite's mandibles twitched as he looked at the charred remains of the Loyalists.
"Well done, Spartan," he congratulated.
John gave a curt nod.
"So… I guess you're done. Mind if I take over?" Stacker asked.
"All yours," the Chief nodded to the hatch.
The Sergeant grinned in delight as he climbed onto the tank and entered the hull.
"Thanks," he said.
"Alright boys and girls, let's get this show on the road," Johnson broadcasted.
Spark moved up the doors, interfacing with the controls. A slow rumble echoed through the area as the massive doors parted open.
"This way," the Monitor proclaimed.
…
John slipped through the doors, MA5C at the ready. He kept in line with the Monitor, following the floating orb as he led the way. Peering around the corner, John held up a closed fist, before gesturing a sweeping motion with an open palm.
"Contacts in the next room, two Brutes, three Jacks and sleeping Grunts," he whispered into the COMs. "Dubbo, toss frags, wait for the boom, then flash."
The Helljumpers popped the pins on their grenades and rolled the charges along the ground. Unaware of the impending danger, the Grunts remained oblivious in their sleep. John kept his back against the wall and readied his weapon, counting the seconds ticking by.
Whump.
The shockwave tore through the air, tungsten ball bearings shattered through flesh and bone. Two flashbangs were thrown in amongst the confusion, blinding the Covenant soldiers. Unlike the humans, the Covenant races had an increased sensitivity to light, making them all the more susceptible to flashbangs. It was a weakness the humans were too happy to exploit in CQB.
John was the first to enter; he ignored the targets at the centre of the blood smeared room and quickly turned to his left. A dazed Brute was shielding his eyes, growling as he tried to fight off the disorientation. The Spartan squeezed the trigger in quick succession, reducing the Jiralhanae's head to a pulpy mass.
The body dropped as he strafed to the corner and swept the room for any remaining targets: None. The ODSTs had performed a perfect textbook room clearance; no casualties.
"Anyone find it weird that these guys were sleeping… while we were tearing shit up?" Dubbo asked.
"Don't question it, man. Easy kills… don't question it," another ODST said.
Spark led the team through a labyrinth of rooms and corridors, but as teams stopped checking in with the Covenant command, the remaining groups readied themselves against the intrusion.
"Chamber high-ex," the Spartan whispered.
Chambering a grenade into his launcher, John quickly fired into the room and was rewarded with a dull thud.
"Thump 'em!" he barked.
The ODST grenadiers quickly fired their grenade launchers into the room in rapid succession, creating an unforgiving firestorm, fuelled by methane packs.
Once again, the Spartan was the first through the door. He checked his vector.
Clear. Target centre, he droned inwardly.
Turning on his axis, he squeezed the trigger, bringing down a Jackal.
"We're clear," Dubbo called out.
Floating above the carnage, Spark led the team into the final room, the Cartographer. The unpleasant memories crept back in, but John stuffed them to the back of his mind. He panned his eyes across the expansive observation platform, looking out over a curved waterfall.
The Helljumpers filed in and fanned out, securing the area as the Spartan walked up to the terminal.
Placing his hand on the controls, the Cartographer winked to life. An image of the Milky Way appeared, slowly rotating.
"That's… our galaxy," the Chief said. "We're beyond the outer rim."
The Spartan still hadn't quite wrapped his head around the idea that they were in intergalactic space, the first time he saw the Milky Way.
Spark turned to face him.
"Two to the eighteenth light years from the galactic centre, to be precise," the Monitor said.
The hologram morphed into the installation.
"What is this place?" John asked.
"The Ark," Spark answered as a matter fact.
"This is the Ark?" the Chief asked, readjusting the grip on his rifle.
"I always assumed it was part of a Shield installation, but it seems I was mistaken."
"That's a first," John muttered sarcastically.
"Not at all," Spark justified. "While I had a complete understanding of Installation Zero-Four, my makers wisely limited my knowledge of all strategic facilities. Compartmentalization, in case I was ever captured by the Flood."
The Spartan looked at the map.
"Can you tell me where we are, exactly?"
"Here!"
The map morphed, zooming in on a highlighted area near the centre of the installation.
"And Truth?"
"Near one of the Ark's superluminal communication arrays, I'm afraid. Unfortunate; the Meddler has triggered a barrier; a defensive perimeter around the Ark's core."
Out of the corner of his eye, John could see two Covenant Banshees and a Phantom on approach. The Arbiter shifted uneasily, giving him a concerned glance.
"The barrier will be difficult to disable... how odd that my makers would place such a comprehensive defence around a single…" the Monitor paused. "Oh, my."
"What is it?"
Before Spark could answer, the Loyalist flight readjusted for an attack vector.
"Phantom!" Vadam roared.
The enemy attack ships unleashed a torrent of plasma, boiling the metal surfaces away. ODSTs dove for cover, steadying themselves behind the thick barriers. The biotics amongst them generated shields for their comrades.
"Spark! Move!" John barked.
"We must get past the barrier! Or the Meddler will destroy it all!"
343 turned around and headed back into the direction from where they came from.
"Chief," Johnson's voice crackled. "You've got a whole mess of hostile air inbound on your position! Get back inside. We'll take 'em out."
"Follow the Oracle, Spartan!" Vadam urged.
With the Banshee piloted by an inexperienced and poorly trained Brute, the Arbiter quickly latched onto the attack craft and ripped the alien out of the controls. The Brute Minor thrashed as he fell into the waters below, leaving the craft for the Elite.
The assault team double backed through the entrance and sprinted through the labyrinth once more, hot on Spark's heels.
"Protocol dictates action," the Monitor said to himself. "The Installation was my responsibility if my suspicions are correct… no! I must not jump to conclusions."
Rounding a corner, John spotted another Chieftain.
"The Pack will feast on you!" he roared, before backing out of the room.
"Stalkers," a female Marine cried.
"Frag out!" John ordered.
Pulling a grenade from his belt, he tossed it into the centre of the room, before throwing himself behind cover. The resulting ball of smoke and shrapnel washed over the Brutes, overloading their stealth modules.
"Take them down!" a Helljumper barked.
Springing from cover, the assault team unleashed a torrent of fire. AP rounds punched through the Brutes' rib cage, splintering bone and spraying blood all over the grey floors.
"Hang tight, Chief. We're on our way," Johnson's voice crackled over the COMs.
Moving outside, the Chief saw the Brute Chieftain rally his clan. Their fangs flashed as their weapons readied. The Spartan quickly ordered the team to fan out, and open fire.
"Fight me, I'm here!" the Chieftain declared.
The ODSTs quickly dispatched the Brute Minors before turning their attention to the Chieftain.
John loaded another grenade into his launcher and fired the projectile. Streaming through the air, the explosive warhead detonated on the upper chest, overloading the shields and warping the armoured plates.
Dubbo moved up to the Chief's right and knelt behind a barrier. His battle rifle echoed in short bursts as he hammered the Chieftain with SAPHE rounds. Pockets of explosions rippled across the dense armour plate and within the Brute's thick muscle.
His mind saw the world came to a crawl. If he moved, the Marines behind him would be crushed. If he didn't, he'd have to fight the Chieftan in hand to hand.
The Chieftain charged, ploughing through the firestorm until he was in range of the Spartan. The Marines ceased fire, out of fear of hitting the Chief.
"Cover the Chief!" a Lieutenant ordered, focusing fire against inbound Brute packs.
John quickly flipped over the Brute, narrowly dodging the mass of muscle and metal. Landing on the deck, he quickly spun around and emptied the rest of his mag into the creature's back. A grim smile made its way across his face as he saw a trickle of blood spill onto the metal surface.
The Chieftain roared, turning around for another charge, but John was too close to move out of reach. He drew his sidearm, but the Chieftain was undeniably fast. Thickly muscled hands wrapped around the Chief's throat, slamming him against the support pillars.
The Spartan had to act fast, or else he'd be no more than a sinking stone in the waters below. Bringing his pistol to bear, he aimed for the head, but the Chieftain intercepted it, encasing the Chief's right hand. John fought to stay conscious as black dots swarmed his vision. His left hand, encased in a biotic field, dug into the Brute's arm, stopping the massive alien from crushing his windpipe.
Squeezing the trigger, the Brute's hand exploded in a fountain of blood and bone. The Chief felt his opponent's strength slacken. He emptied the rest of the clip into the helmet. Four rounds shattered the cheek plate, and the final round drilled its way into the bone.
Howling in pain, the Chieftain dropped John, giving the Spartan a slight reprieve, but John knew the dangers of pausing. Springing forward, he biotically torpedoed into the Brute's torso, knocking them back a few metres. Doubling back, the Spartan reached his combat knife. He feinted to his right as the Chieftain threw a wild punch, before shifting into a low stance for another charge.
Without missing a beat, John rammed the biotic encased blade into the bloodied cheek. The Brute staggered back, a guttural pained roar gurgling out of his shredded lips and shattered jaw. The biotic fields had horribly mangled the alien's face. The Chief kept his grip firmly on the blade and twisted it; he could see the flash of metal within the Brute's mouth as he wrenched the knife upward and out.
The Spartan spun around the Brute, holding tightly onto the breastplate. John found himself ontop of the alien and plunged the metal into the exposed flesh of the neck. He felt the jarring stop as blade met bone, then, he wrenched the knife back. Freezing instantly, the Chieftain stopped flailing and fell to the floor, lifeless.
Pulling the blade away, John gave it a shake, flicking the red-blue blood onto the grey deck, before sheathing it.
"Damn Chief," Dubbo's whistled, handing him back his assault rifle.
"Thanks."
A soft hiss reached his ears.
"Brute Jumpers, get to cov…"
A spiker round struck a Marine centre mass, rupturing his heart. The Marine froze in horror, the life slipping away from his disbelieving wide eyes.
"Take cover!" John barked. "Don't let them box you in!"
Brutes loved to come in close for melee; it was in their nature. Knowing that John quickly sprinted into the centre of the platform, spikes striking his shields and the ground around him. Hands outstretched, he scooped up the Gravity Hammer and baited the Brutes.
Seeing that he held their prized weapon, the Jumpers quickly focused their attention on him, swooping in low for a melee kill. Swinging the Hammer, the metal mass struck a knee, instantly shattering the bone and flinging the Brute off into the distance. The massive alien crashed and skidded on the metal planes with a sickeningly wet thud.
Another Brute flanked the Marines, coming in low. The soldiers fired frantically but to no avail, the Ape-like creature swung. John heard the piercing scream of a woman as the blades slashed through her.
"Keating's down!" A Corporal cried.
Bringing his pistol to bear, John fired a trio of bullets at the Brute's head. The rounds pinged off the shield, but that was enough to get his attention. The Spartan readied the Hammer, taunting the alien.
Another strike and another foe turned into a headless ragdoll, tossed on the ground. With everything quiet once more, the Spartan turned to survey the area.
One of the Lieutenants shouted to make himself heard, "Headcount!"
"Keating's alive but fucked up. Samberg is dead, and Thistles is hit in the arm."
The medics performed a quick patch up before helping the wounded up.
"ETA: damn quick!" Johnson barked over COMs. "Standby for pickup!"
A Pelican dropped in low, descending its rear ramp while the others circled overhead. Commander Keyes's tag was coming from the cockpit. John jogged lightly onto the ramp when a swarm of contacts appeared on his sensors.
"Commander!" the Spartan barked.
Hundreds of Sentinels entered his sights, rising up from the levels below.
"Johnson! Look sharp!" Keyes warned.
"I got it!" Johnson said, spooling up the rear guns as the pilot brought the dropship around.
"No, don't shoot! They mean us no harm! Those units have a priority task," Spark cried.
The Sentinels realigned their trajectories, turning away from the platform and shooting off into the distance.
"Oh, yeah? And what might that be?" Johnson growled, puffing on his cigar.
"I really can't say... not for sure. But if you allow me to find a terminal closer to the Core-"
"No, Oracle," the Arbiter interrupted. "We must keep the Prophet of Truth firmly in our sights."
"But what about your construct?" Spark argued."Her solution to the Flood? With more data, I-"
"The Arbiter's right." Miranda agreed. "We have priorities too. Until we kill Truth, stop the Rings from firing… nothing else matters."
With the Arbiter circling behind the four Pelicans, the allied forces followed Sentinels. John kept an eye on his battlenet feed. Commander Keyes was in a Pelican to his left. He frowned inwardly, he preferred it if Keyes stayed on her ship, safe and away from the battle.
…
1430 hours, December 11th, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)
Aboard UNSC Halberd-class destroyer Normandy
Holding above Beach Head Point Alpha
The Ark, Extragalactic Space
"Either the craziest or the ballsiest officer in the fleet," Anderson muttered to himself.
Miranda Keyes had decided to join the fight on the ground by taking a Pelican to act as an overwatch. David sincerely hoped that Miranda brought a team with her, but knowing her, Keyes would've thrown everything into the fight.
"Keyes, you've got anyone flying with you?" Anderson asked on a private channel.
"Negative."
Anderson frowned.
"Joker, bring us in."
"Yes, Captain."
The Normandy descended through the blue skies and broke through the cloud cover. The UNSC destroyer came to a halt, circling above the three covenant shield generators. On the displays, David could see the blue tags of UNSC troops pushing through the lines while the green tags of Separatists swarming the central generator.
"Tower One down," the Master Chief broadcasted.
"Good work, Chief!" Miranda smiled. "That's one."
From the viewports, Anderson could see smoke and plasma flames spew from the structure as it crumbled to the ground. Flecks of debris rained down on the sand, and soon Tower 2 was eliminated.
"That's two. It's all up to Johnson's team now."
Nothing, the Tower remained, taunting them.
"Johnson, come in. Over."
"Brute reinforcements, ma'am!" the Sergeant grunted. Gun chatter swarmed the audio. "We're pinned down!"
"I'm on my way!" Keyes said without hesitation.
"Second wave is on standby, Sergeant," Anderson said.
"Negative! Fire's too heavy!" Johnson argued. "Everyone fall back! Now!"
The link then went dead, cut off by static.
"Sergeant Major! Johnson! Can you hear me?!"
No response.
"Chief, you need to link up with the Arbiter and proceed directly to the Third Tower. Make your way back to the beach."
"I'll send in Captain Alenko," Anderson said.
In the relative safety of his ship, David watched the UNSC pings fade out one by one.
"Sergeant Johnson's tags are still active sir," said Pressley. "They're taking him somewhere,"
David swore under his breath as he opened up the COM channels.
"Be advised, they've captured Johnson."
"Dammit, they're going to use him to activate the Rings," Miranda said.
"Roger that. Normandy is going to…"
More contacts appeared on radar.
"Dammit. Heads up everyone, enemy fast movers coming in from the north. Guns, open up. Carlton patch me through to Delta Squad," Anderson ordered.
"Done."
A green light winked above his microphone.
"Captain Tony, Delta Squad is to break off from the attack and reinforce the Chief."
"Copy that, sir."
…
With the defensive towers out of the way, a detachment of Sangheili ships had pushed through to the facility, clearing a path for the ground assault team.
"Joker, bring us over the Citadel, keep us out of AA range."
"Copy that, sir."
"Weapons crew, you are cleared to engage all non-friendlies."
"Captain, we've got contact coming out of slipspace," an Ensign warned.
A massive portal morphed into existence, the blackened sphere warped the light around it, giving it an eerie violet and cobalt glow. Leaving the darkness emerged a giant mushroom-shaped station, damaged and decrepit.
"HighCharity… by the gods," Shipmaster R'tas breathed on COMs.
Debris covered in sickly flesh rained from the Covenant station as it soared overhead.
"Joker, get us out of here!" Anderson ordered.
The station howled overhead, spewing debris into every direction.
The point defence guns roared into life, launching high explosive shells at the shower of rock and flesh. Normandy's engines flared, pushing her out of the kill zone. But it was too little too late; the CIWS system was overwhelmed. Debris slammed into the Shadow of Intent, piercing a starboard section. Flames and sparks spewed out of the wound as the Separatist ship wavered and dipped towards the ground.
Whump...
The metal screeching filled Anderson's ears as the destroyer shook as if it was going into shock. From the massive viewports, he watched another chunk pierce the forward hull, right before the blast shields slammed shut.
Alarms blared throughout the ship, crewman ran from console to console, attempting to stabilise systems and regain control.
"Carlton, status!" Anderson ordered.
"I'm losing control of the engines. All port side reactor cores are offline, multiple breaches in the hull, Flood contact has been detected on multiple decks."
David swore under his breath. Tapping his fingers on his command console, he brought up the ship's intercom.
"Everyone, this is Anderson. We are abandoning the Normandy. Prepare to scuttle the ship."
Unlatching his seatbelt, he moved up to the central display and prepared a venting timer.
"Carlton, seal off all the bulkheads and maintenance shafts, do whatever you can to delay the Flood."
"Done."
The central display projected a 3D model of the Normandy. Red swarms quickly spread throughout the ship, quickly overtaking dozens of blue signatures.
"God have mercy on me," David whispered.
Entering in the commands, blast doors descended, slamming shut. Crimson dots swarmed across the display, rapidly overwhelming the trapped blue dots. One by one, friendly tags went offline.
"Jettison high yield nuclear weapons and arm low yields, authorisation code: lambda-five-oh-three-three-bravo," Anderson ordered. "Ten-minute detonation."
"Confirmed," the AI said.
"Set a course to get the Normandy through the waters, I want this to be as far as possible."
"Acknowledged."
"Ready to go?"
The AI avatar nodded. "Yes, sir."
Entering in the access code onto the console, David pulled the AI chip out of the plinth and shoved it into his pocket. Rushing up to the helm, Anderson tugged at his Flight Lieutenant's shoulders.
"C'mon Joker, we got to go!"
Jeff paused for a moment, hesitant to leave.
"Dammit," Moreau hissed.
Unlatching his buckle, he quickly followed Anderson, snatching a rifle from the weapons locker. David checked the ammo reading of the MA5 before slamming the escape pod console. The metal doors parted, allowing Anderson and Moreau to rush through.
Strapping himself to the pilot seat, David locked his rifle into the mag clamps and checked the passengers.
"Everyone's here, sir," said Pressly. "Punch it."
Anderson activated the thrusters, his head slammed into the headrest as the lifeboat lurched out of its slot. Looking out the viewport, he could see the Flood-infested grounds below. Overriding the autopilot, David guided the lifeboat to the other end of the Citadel, far away from the stricken Normandy.
Flames spouted from the breaches in the hull, hurling burning embers through the sky. The destroyer shuddered and careened to its side. Her engines flared, limping away from the Citadel. The software Carlton left in his place, forced the reactor cores to push the ship away with whatever ounce of strength was left. Fuel reserves used for emergencies were dumped into the flames for an afterburner effect, shoving the vessel far out beyond the clouds.
"Chief, how close are you?" Keyes asked.
"Not close enough," he answered, his voice ragged.
Anderson frowned, his brows furrowed as he looked at the remaining allied forces circling the area. Miranda Keyes was on an approach vector into the heart of the Citadel, her Pelican roaring into the fray.
"Keyes, the hell are you doing?" David COM'd.
"If I don't get to Johnson in time, they'll activate the rings."
"What?"
"The Halos, they need a human to activate it."
"Why?"
"Doesn't matter. If I don't get to him, we all lose."
"Or he ends up dead and you are the one that activates them," Anderson argued.
"Gotta try, sir."
David gripped the controls and steered the lifeboat into the Pelican's wake.
"Dammit," he muttered. "Everyone lock and load. Keyes, we're coming in on your six."
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Miranda's Pelican ploughing into the control. He guided the lifeboat in on the Pelican's approach vector, clipping a pane of glass as it soared through the atrium. Covenant soldiers scatter, Brutes dived out of the way, but some were too late. Several tons of metal slammed into the massive apelike creatures, turning them into bloodied smears.
"Keyes is on the control platform. Everybody clear a path."
Captain Kaidan Alenko was first out the door; it was in his nature as an ODST to do so. With one arm outstretched, he generated a protective biotic barrier, covering the crew as they disembarked. Once everyone was clear, he dropped the barrier and held his rifle with both hands. His weapon chattered; spent shells arced onto the floor as he laid down suppressive fire. The other officers followed in close behind, fanning out and advancing up the stairs to the main area.
The distant explosions rang down the hall. It probably was the Delta Squad with the Arbiter and the Chief. Pushing on, Anderson flanked around to the right side of the stairs, firing a burst directly into a Brute's chest. The alien roared in defiance and returned fire.
Spike rounds tore through the air where Anderson once was, embedding into the deck or the barricades.
Leaning out of cover, he fired another burst, punching through the Brute's armour plating. Dark red blood flowed, soaking the fur and dripping onto the ground. The Brute growled again, howling in rage.
"Alenko, focus fire!" Anderson commanded.
The ODST Officer turned his Battle Rifle to bear, drilling three rounds into the alien's chest. He followed through with a biotic throw, toppling the Brute over. The rest of the ODSTs zeroed in on the down ape, and fired, shredding the body.
"We're clear!" Kaidan said. "Move up!"
Sprinting up the stairs and onto the circular platform, Anderson spotted the Pelican and the several bloodied smears where the dropship had crushed the Covenant soldiers. Keyes and Johnson were currently locked in a firefight against the remaining Honour Guards. Alenko and Jenkins strafed left in perfect unison, their combined fire working in concert with one another.
"One's going berserk!" Joker cried, firing on the bloodlust Brute.
Armour piercing rounds punched through the metal plates a dug deep into the alien's flesh but did little to stop it. The Brute barrelled towards the downed Pelican, roaring in savage delight as it fired spikes into the dropship.
Johnson, in all the commotion, had made it to the crashed Pelican's rear doors. He sighted the new threat. Swinging the Gatling gun on its axis, he poured a torrent of heavy calibre rounds into the Brute, ripping the massive creature into bloodied ribbons.
"Move up and stay quiet, watch your sightlines," Anderson ordered.
The Normandy crew moved up onto the main platform and fanned out before returning their attention back to the cavernous passageway.
"Hey, we've got a live one here, it's the Prophet of Truth," Jenkins said, keeping his rifle firmly pressed into the back of a bulbous skull.
Anderson jogged over to the main console, his finger resting on the trigger guard.
"Get him up," he ordered.
The Private complied, wrenching the Covenant leader up to his feet.
"Hurrahahahaahaha!"
The laughed roared like a deathly tone, the platform shook as vines of biomass lurched into the air.
"Everyone! Onto the Pelicans, now!" Anderson roared.
Boots thundered up the ramp as machine gunfire chattered over their heads. Flood poured onto the ramp, hobbling at a supernatural speed with an insatiable hunger.
"Everyone's on board!" Alenko shouted.
The Pelicans' engines hummed as Keyes lifted the bird off the ground.
Air whipped into the cargo bay as Miranda deftly guided the Pelican around the flailing tentacles. Fiery hands leapt from the barrels as automatic fire filled the air, striking the Flood on the ground.
Closing the hatch, David turned his attention to the Prophet of Truth, the leader of the Covenant, and the one who ordered the butchering of billions of humans.
"Chief, what's your status?" Keyes broadcasted.
Gunfire surged through the COMs.
"We're in deep," the Spartan answered. "Making our way back out."
"Do you need support?" Anderson asked.
There was a pause on the other end.
"Negative. We've already lost most of Delta Squad."
"Copy, Chief. Rally back at the Dawn."
"Copy."
…
Aboard the UNSC Charon-class light frigate Forward Unto Dawn
Shepard watched as a team of ODSTs haul the Prophet of Truth off to the brig. Keyes had given the men explicit orders to keep the Hierarch in isolation and under close guard. If at any moment the ship was breached, the Marines were to immediately toss frags into the Prophet's cell. The leader of the Covenant was not to leave this ship alive without being in UNSC custody.
"We should kill him," the Arbiter insisted strongly. "He must be silenced."
"He'll stand trial," Keyes countered. "He'll be proven guilty of war crimes, and executed."
"Maybe the court'll even let you run him through," Johnson added.
That answer seemed to satisfy the Elite for now.
Turning away from the Prophet, the group made their way to the Command Bridge. Upon entering the deck, Shepard made a beeline to the central display console which projected the analysis of the Covenant Capital.
Despite the grand size of High Charity, it was inextricably small in comparison to the Ark. The grotesque mushroom shaped station lay upon the Forerunner Installation like a fungal infestation, oozing spores into the surrounding air.
Like all organic life, the Flood was bound to the laws of physics. In the vacuum of space, their DNA would denature from the cosmic radiation and their flesh would freeze over. Thus to survive on the hull of High Charity, the Flood would need to from a thick carapace to protect itself. But the punishment the station took from jumping through slipspace to Earth to get to the portal, and Earth's defences had broken the carapace, leaving shrivelled battered flesh rotting off the hull.
Looking at the massive display showing the Flood Forms rushing out of the station set uneasiness in Shepard's stomach. Countless sentinels and Elite warships moved into combat the threat.
"We need to fire Halo to destroy the Flood," Miranda said.
"Cortana has the Index we can use," John said.
"But how are we going to get in?" Shepard asked. "High Charity is a hive."
"Leave that to me," the Spartan said. "Just contain the Flood."
"Looks like we're going in then," Shepard said, gripping his rifle.
"No," the Spartan interrupted. "The Arbiter and I will go in, alone. Once we've set off the reactors, we'll need exfill."
"Alright, you got it," Shepard nodded.
The two massive warriors turned away from the console and left. Minutes later, a lone Pelican departed. Turning his eyes back to the monitor, Shepard could see multiple Separatists contacts link up with the Chief and the Arbiter.
"Anderson, you still have Carlton on you?" Shepard asked.
The Captain gave a nod.
"Yes," he answered. "What are you thinking?"
"The Ark is a treasure trove," Shepard began. "We upload him onto a spy drone and have him uploaded into the mainframe."
"It's risky," Anderson said, concerned. "And not a priority. Not right now."
"But the benefits outweigh the risk. If Carlton can figure out how to keep the portal open, we might have a chance of coming back."
"You're hopeful," Miranda said softly.
Shepard gave a weak smile.
…
Aboard a Pelican dropship, inbound to the rendezvous point
"We are aboard," the Shipmaster said. "Humans and Elite.Will you not come with us, brother?" Rtas 'Vadum's voice crackled over the COMs.
"No. This is our fight," the Arbiter answered. "And I will see it finished."
"Cortana to team two, our Pelican's damaged. We'll need to make a crash landing."
"Copy that, Cortana," Shepard answered. "We'll link up with you."
As the pilot circled the dropship over the Chief's crash site, Matthew opened the rear doors and saw two more Pelicans as well as a squadron of Hornets. The second team was composed of volunteers as Shepard had asked. Alenko managed to get Gunnery Sergeant Ashely Williams and her fire team of Marines, Lieutenant James Vega, and Private Jenkins.
Johnson managed to rope in Private Chips Dubbo and Marcus Stacker. Excluding the crew, there were thirteen people aboard.
The dropships came to a halt, hovering above the upper platform of the ziggurat.
"Good luck everyone. We'll maintain a low orbit and provide fire support," Miranda said.
"Copy that," Shepard replied. "See you in a few."
Stepping out into the cold air, the team took up a defensive formation as they swept the fields with the rifles.
"Chief, what's your pos?" Miranda broadcasted.
"Moving up the tower," the Spartan answered.
"This is Dagger Three-Two, we have eyes on the Chief," a Hornet pilot said. "Moving into to assist."
"Many thanks," Cortana replied.
"Move to the edge, but watch your sector," Shepard ordered. "Lang, hang back and cover us if any pods drop on top."
"Got it."
The team fanned out and covered the walkways, pouring fire at any Flood forms that came near. Matthew hanged near the ledge, watching the Flood swarm the tower. Hornets swooped in on an attack run, their guns roaring as they spewed heavy calibre rounds at the parasites. Plumes of dirt and snow kicked up into the air as shattered flesh blew in all directions.
"Flood's crawling all over the tower," Johnson warned. "Watch yourself."
The Sergeant Major then turned to the door.
"Spark? You in there? Open the damn door!"
"Of course, Reclaimer. Just as soon as you dispose of all proximate Flood threats. I'm afraid containment protocols do not allow me to…"
"Yeah, yeah," Johnson brushed brusquely. "I hear you."
Eventually, the Chief and the Arbiter made it to the top of the tower.
"I have beaten fleets of thousands! Consumed a galaxy of flesh and mind and bone!" the Gravemind roared through his proxies.
"Someone's pissed," Shepard muttered.
His rifle chattered as he hosed down a lance of infection forms.
The Hornets came in for another attack run, thinning out the Flood ranks.
"Dagger, be careful," Cortana warned. "Some of the Flood have heavy weapons."
"Ten-four on that," the squadron leader said. "Whoa, look out Three-Four."
In the distance, Shepard saw a plume of smoke rising rapidly, heading straight for a Hornet. The pilot threw the Hornet into a wild bank, avoiding the incoming missile, and then returned fire. The entire ridgeline was hammered with a hail of bullets and rockets, buckling the rock and ice onto the valley floor below.
The team pushed towards the spire, and surged up the ramps, coming to a halt in front of the doors.
"Open up!" Johnson bellowed to Spark. "Coast is clear."
The heavy metal doors parted, allowing the assault team to enter.
"It's trying to rebuild itself on this Ring," Cortana said worriedly.
"What is?" Miranda asked.
"The Gravemind," the AI answered.
"Hurry. Control Room's close!"
Upon moving into the Control Room, Shepard took in the long transparent walkway that led to the control console, where the real time status of the Halo ring's construction was visually displayed.
The eerily cheery humming from Guilty Spark sent chills down Matthew's spine as he saw the Monitor glide over to the Sergeant Major.
"Oh, hello!" the Forerunner AI greeted the group. "Wonderful news – the Installation is almost complete."
"Terrific," Johnson replied uninterested.
"Yes… isn't it?" Spark added uneasily. "I have begun my simulations. No promises, but initial results indicate that this facility should be ready to fire… in just a few more days!"
"We don't have a few more days!" Johnson interrupted impatiently.
Remembering the firing sequence at the Control Room, the Sergeant Major prepared the activation.
"Bu-bu-but a premature firing will destroy the Ark!" the AI cried in alarm.
"Deal with it," the Sergeant snapped dismissively.
"… will destroy the Installation," Spark added.
The AI rose, bearing down on the Sergeant, his eye turning read.
"Watch out!" Jenkins cried.
Everything slowed to a crawl. Shepard watched the ODST shove the Sergeant Major out of the way. A fiery lance lashed out and struck Jenkins in the back of the head, melting away the armour plates. Johnson fell back onto the transparent floor, just as the dead Helljumper's body fell on top of him.
"Unacceptable! Unacceptable! Absolutely unacceptable!" the Monitor was in hysterics.
A blast of red leapt from the blue orb and struck the Master Chief. His shields flashed gold and overloaded. Knocked to the ground, the Spartan tried to get back up, but he was struck again, smoke curling from the plates.
"Protocol dictates action! I see now that helping you was wrong!"
Spark quickly turned his attention to the Arbiter, blasting him off his feet.
"Weapons free!" Alenko roared.
Bullets bounced off the rampant AI, even when it hovered towards the Chief, the ODSTs with their superb marksmanship, continued to fire.
"You are a child of my makers," he said to the Spartan. "Inheritor of all they left behind. You are Forerunner! But this ring…"
The Monitor turned red once more.
"…is mine."
343 turned away from the Chief, facing towards Matthew. Another crimson lance struck out again, melting straight through ballistics armour of the Marine standing in front of Shepard. He felt the heat strike him dead centre. Landing on his back, pain wracked his chest as he coughed.
"I take no pleasure in doing what must be done," Spark stated.
"Matt!" Langley yelled.
The Agency operative came to Shepard's side, pushing the smouldering body off of him and dragging him out of the line of fire.
"You alright?"
"Yeah, I'm all right," Matthew wheezed.
Langley pulled him to his feet, and the two kept low as Spark turned his attention solely on the Chief.
The group opened fire, but it didn't do much. The rounds just bounced and sparked off the Monitor, clattering to the ground in fragments or ricocheting off into the distance off the room.
"This is fucking loco," Vega hissed as he strafed to the left.
"Lock it up, Lieutenant," Alenko ordered. "Williams, hit Spark with everything you got!"
Shouldering a rocket launcher, a plume of smoke left the barrel and streaked towards the Monitor. A sphere of fire rapidly enveloped the rampant AI, but before the smoke even cleared, Spark was on the move again. A merciless barrage was concentrated entirely on the Spartan.
The Chief ducked and rolled with such speed Shepard didn't think was possible. But it was the only thing keeping him alive. Wispy hands of smoke curled up from his armour, the paint on his chest plate was marred, and the metal beneath was probably warped. Gel oozed out from the exhaust, bubbling and boiling.
He could see the blue tendrils of biotics roll off the Spartan. He couldn't keep this up forever.
"You do not deserve this ring!" Spark cried. His voice warped and enraged. "I have kept it safe. It belongs to me!"
The Monitor fired again, the Spartan threw up a biotic shield, but it wasn't enough. The red lance bored through the barrier and clipped the left pauldron. The Chief was flung violently across the walkway and landed with a screeching halt. His MA5 fired in vain against the murderous AI, and as soon as the magazine ran dry, he dropped the rifle and switched to his shotgun.
The weapon boomed and echoed, spent shells clattering onto the floor. At first, it was the canister shots that showered the Monitor harmlessly. Then, the Spartan shoved in slug rounds. A resounding clash of metal rolled across the room every time one of those rounds struck.
"Spartan, behind me!" the Arbiter bellowed.
The Elite tossed a shield generator onto the floor, encircling the two in a protective energy shell.
This is it, Shepard thought. Any moment, Guilty Spark would turn his attention on the rest of them. But still, he kept on firing at the Spartan. He was so fixated on it that when William's second missile struck, he didn't even bother to retaliate. Matthew was beginning to believe that the Light Bulb was indestructible.
"Hey, Spooky!" Johnson called.
Matt broke into a sprint across the walkway as the rest of the team fired futilely at Spark. Kneeling by the Sergeant Major, Matthew could see the dead ODST's burnt form. Pulling him off Johnson, Shepard quickly pat down the Sergeant. He wondered if his arm was still alive or was it just dead tissue. It was too hard to tell with the smell Jenkins's cooked body filling the air.
"Kick his ass," Johnson said to Matthew, handing him, his Spartan Laser.
Langley grabbed Jenkins's Squad Automatic Weapon and began to fire on Spark, for some hopeless attempt to draw away fire. Then, Shepard fired.
The shot struck home, cracking the casing. Electric sparks arced into the air as the disoriented AI sputtered in flight, plasma hissing out of his sides. That was when the AI's self-preservation instincts must've kicked in.
"You – you cracked my casing!"
Spark turned around, eyes glowing crimson. Instinctively, Matthew crouched protectively over Johnson. His brain hammered inside his head as fire spread from his temples, down through to his spine. Shepard gritted his teeth, casting the strongest barrier he could muster, and waited for the inevitable burn.
But it never came.
"Again!" the Chief bellowed.
Matthew couldn't believe his eyes. The Spartan had latched onto the Monitor, wrenching the AI off his flight path. The Arbiter added his weight by grabbing hold onto the Chief's legs. Unable to wrench free from their grasp, 343 was a sitting duck.
Shouldering the laser once more, Shepard initiated the charge up.
"Firing in three two one!"
The Chief released his grip, and the Arbiter pulled him down, just as the laser struck. Guilty Spark was violently tossed off course, barely stabilising himself at a tilted angle.
"Accept your legacy!" the AI sputtered. "Think of you-ou-our forefathers!"
Another missile from Williams struck, knocking the AI off balance again and buying precious time for Shepard to fire the another blow. The red lance slammed into Spark. The Monitor reeled end over end, plasma venting violently as electricity arced.
The Arbiter unsheathed his plasma sword. The iconic crackle rippled through the air as the blade came to life. He surged towards the monitor, boosted by his own biotic prowess, and delivered the killing blow.
"Oh myyyyyy-aaaaah!" the AI screamed.
In a blink of an eye, Spark was enveloped in blinding blue light that came from within. His casing shattered completely, showering the deck in metal and just like that, he was destroyed.
Matthew stood up and lowered the M7, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. The skirmish just happened so fast, and yet it felt like an eternity. Helping Johnson up, Shepard stepped back as the Sergeant Major held Cortana's AI chip over the console, letting her access Halo's core.
Activating Halo, she uploaded herself back into the chip, which was then handed back to the Chief.
"Run!" She cried through his speakers.
Instantly, everyone made a mad dash for the exit as the beam in the centre of the room brightened and intensified. The superstructure of the ring began to shake as support struts fell from the ceiling and crashed into the walkway. Entering the hall, everyone heard the ominous growl of the Flood.
"Aww fuck," Langley hissed.
Flood forms entered Matthew's view. He brought his rifle up to bear, he squeezed the trigger and felt the weapon kick in his arms. A firestorm of rounds left the barrel, hosing down the Flood forms.
Gunfire cleaved of chunks of diseased flesh. Infection forms danced from one tendril to another, only to be shredded into a pasty mist of green.
The Arbiter took point with his energy sword while the Chief acted as a rear-guard. His speed allowed him to lay down accurate fire while keeping up with the escaping group. But there was only so much a Spartan could do.
The ammo counter dropped to zero, Matthew tossed the SAW aside and drew his sidearm. The magnum thundered as he blasted away the bulbous parasites. The Marines maintained their positions and laid down suppressive fire, but one of Williams's men was unlucky enough to be struck in the collar by a 7mm caseless round. The woman didn't even cry as her shocked body fell to the floor.
"Dennings is down!" a Marine shouted.
Instinctively, Shepard looped his gloved hand into the shoulder strap of the Marine and dragged her along the ground while a Corporal held the other arm.
A Combat Form rounded the corner at the rear, firing a rifle burst. Two rounds caught Langley in the chest, but his chest plate stopped the bullets. Shepard wasn't so lucky. An armour piercing round punched cleanly through his left shoulder, and another trio hitting him centre mass, with a final round glancing off his standard issue helmet.
It felt like being hit by a rampaging bull. Matthew lost his footing and fell back, the air knocked out of his chest. None of the rounds punctured his vitals at least that was what he hoped.
"You alright?" another Marine cried.
Shepard nodded, struggling to get up.
The Spartan quickly towered over them, protecting them from the brunt of the assault.
Langley was quickly by Matt's side and hauled him to his feet.
Turning around, they sprinted out onto the platform where the Pelicans awaited. Running up the ramp, Langley strapped Shepard into one of the seats as the rest of the survivors filed on board. One of the crewmen manned the gun and began to fire into the emerging Flood horde.
"Everyone's on board!" the Spartan bellowed.
"Ma'am, I'm bringing the Dawn around," the Dawn's Flight Lieutenant COM'd.
"Good," Miranda said. "We'll meet you at the nav point."
Feeling the g-forces on his body, Shepard's ears were quickly filled with the sound of roaring engines as the Keyes gunned for the frigate's hangar.
The moment the dropships touched down on the metal deck, the crew and passengers quickly disembarked to help secure the birds while the massive airlocks closed. Reaching down to his ankles, Shepard flicked on his magnetic soles and planted himself firmly on the floor before running towards the Command Bridge.
From the rear cameras, Matthew could see blue bolts streak towards the centre of the ring from its circumference, coalescing into one giant sphere. Debris shook from the Installation, showering the Ark in huge chunks of debris.
Power was diverted to the engines, spare liquid fuel reserves were dumped into the thrusters for an afterburner boost. Shepard stumbled but quickly regained his footing, his hand wrapped around a bar.
A Scorpion tank tore loose from its lock points and went flying towards the hangar bay opening.
The Marines dived out of the way, the Arbiter lunging into a pile of crates.
Shepard watched in horror as the tank flew towards the Master Chief. The left track bogey struck the deck, cartwheeling the tank over the Chief and off into the void of space.
Matthew breathed a sigh of relief. He felt the Master Chief's eyes lock with his, and a subtle node was exchanged.
"Matt, you still there?" Langley called.
Shepard peered out of the access doorway and found Chen with Johnson.
"Need some help here."
Shifting Johnson's weight onto their shoulders
The Forward Unto Dawn entered the portal, and all the cameras faded to black. No one dared breathe a sigh of relief, it wasn't over yet. They all knew that the Ark was what kept the portal open. If the destruction of Halo were enough to damage the Ark's infrastructure, then the Installation's ability to maintain the portal would be compromised.
"Entering slipspace in five," the Flight Lieutenant said, initiating the countdown. "Four, three, two, one."
Foom!
The ship shock, an ominous rumble spread through the decks.
"That's not good," Langley whispered.
"Shit," Keyes hissed.
Matt felt his heart drop to his stomach.
Plunging back into normal space, Shepard's eyes were immediately assaulted by sunlight before the viewports dimmed. Alarms blared through the speakers, the ship's systems flashing red. The Dawn's velocity was incredibly high, the air boiling away at the ablative plates, leaving a trail of orange and smoke in the ship's wake.
"Warning! Low altitude!" the systems howled.
The frigate's superstructure groaned under the immense pressure. Matthew could feel the deck rumble beneath him as the reverse thrusters roared to life. The Flight LT dumped extra fuel into the flames to slow the descent, but they were coming in too fast at a near nosedive at the Artefact.
Shepard grunted as the g-forces pushed against them frame, darkness encroaching his vision. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Arbiter taking brace positions against the display.
The Dawn flattened out and roared over the city of Voi, and the pressure subsided. Blinking away the dots in his vision, Matthew looked at the sensors; he could see a multitude of friendly contacts closing in. Squadrons of Longsword Interceptors moved into an escort formation while Rescue Dropships remained close behind.
"We're still going too fast," an ensign gritted.
"We'll make it," Keyes reassured.
The ocean was becoming increasingly larger as the horizon rose. They were going to crash. Gripping the chair, Shepard waited for the inevitable impact.
Ploughing through the water, Matthew was thrown forward in the seat, his chest crushed against the harness. A pained cry escaped his lips as he gasped for breath.
Water splashed up onto the hull, steam curling off the hot metal. The levels rose rapidly, lapping at the viewports of the Command Bridge, and then, the ship came to a jarring halt. The entire deck shook violently as the sound of scraping metal and rock ripped through the whole vessel.
The main display projected the image of the frigate; the lower decks flashing red. The hulls were breached and water was flooding in. Immediately, the bulkheads were sealed shut. No one was reported to be in those areas anyway.
"We're secure," Carlton announced. "We're home."
Rapturous applause rippled across the command deck. Tears were streaming down people's faces as they laughed in relief.
Reaching up to the latch, Shepard unclasped the armour plates from his uniform, letting the warped and dented composite materials drop onto the floor. He winced as he hand touched his chest. They were minor burns, nothing an ice pack wouldn't fix.
"What's our status?" Miranda asked.
"We lost our rear half," an Ensign answered. "The Master Chief is unaccounted for."
…
"He saw their exhaustion, knew that their time was here. A cure was not meant to be, and so He whispered to them, 'come with me.' With tearful eyes, we watched them leave. We begged and wept for them to stay, but in the end, we could only watch, and let Him take them away. So with a heavy heart, from those who remain, may the tears of our grateful children forever fall on your graves."
-To the Fallen
…
A/N:
I know this chapter didn't quite build off the last, but we're going through character establishment here. Next chapter should have more of the details you're looking for. I'm not aiming to dump copious amounts of information on you in one sitting as I did with Lost Legacy.
Anyway, love it? Hate it? Leave a review and let me know.