1423 hours, May 28, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Mustafar System, Mustafar
The dropship slowly hovered its way into position, blue-purple hull reflecting the glaring shine of the fires of Mustafar. Lava bubbled and sprung into the blistering air, falling with a smoky sizzle back to the flames from which they were spawned.
Jiralhanae Army Commander Alarus huffed, jumping to the landing zone below. He warily surveyed the scorching landscape. Night-black, austere edifices perched atop the dark crags edging the molten river. A thin metal walkway jutted from the landing pad, ending at a blocky building centered with a glass observatory window. He nodded in silent approval and turned back to the Phantom.
"Come, honored ones." he affirmed, waving over to the open side hatch.
Three lavishly robed San 'Shyuum seated atop decorated hover thrones floated down to the metal surface. They were covered in a domed transparent alloy to protect themselves from the heat. Unggoy in humped methane tanks attended to the Prophets, chattering amongst themselves excitedly. Alarus watched as the Jiralhanae Honor Guard dismounted from the transport, looking imperious in their elaborate armor. Orange, curving headpieces adorned their furred skulls; Alarus thought they looked quite ridiculous. He longed for his own personal guard, but they were seeing to the fleet. Alarus fiddled with his crimson battle armor and spied thin yellow machines walking over to them, scrawny limbs holding on to a black plasma rifle. Alarus choked back a fit of laughter, although he did scoff in contempt as they approached him. If these were the warriors that fought against the UNSC, he was not surprised why they were losing.
"Honored guests," one of them droned monotonously. "The council awaits your arrival. Follow us, please."
They proceeded to lead the entourage down the walkway. Alarus followed, looking back to the High Triumvirate.
"Come."
/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\
The High Prophet of Reclamation carefully dabbed his wrinkled, soggy face with a damp handkerchief, swearing to the gods that as soon as he takes control of this galaxy, he would obliterate this infernal planet.
Even inside the oxygen-supported cooling tank, the blistering heat affected the frail San 'Shyuum greatly. He cursed, looking at his brothers through sweat-blanketed eyes.
The High Prophet of Enlightenment was wheezing horribly, droplets of blood-mingled saliva hitting the glass dome that covered him. The High Prophet of Retribution's expression was one of tortured toleration. His ancient face was screwed in an agonized pinch. Reclamation chuckled in amusement but ended up hacking out saliva. Finally, they made it to the entrance.
The scrawny mechanical abomination pressed a control pad beside the door, and the hatch slid open. The Prophets rushed in frantically, almost bumping against each other in their hurry to get in. They knocked over a droid in front of them.
Reclamation saw Alarus slam a booted foot down onto the machine's elongated neck, sending a flurry of sparks into the air. Its comrades lifted their weapons hesitantly, defense measures screaming at them to eliminate the threat. However, their officers had ordered them not to harm the guests, so they dropped their weapons.
The primate in scarlet armor grinned at them, revealing his sharp incisors.
They came to the end of the corridor, waiting as the door to the room opened. A polished table was positioned at the center of the room. Around the room attached to the walls were various control panels. Several droids and Mustafarians were seated at the controls, busily working.
A hologram of the Confederacy of Independent System's symbol hovered above the center of the table, a hexagon with lines centering to a smaller, solid-blue hexagon. A simple picture, but one that had instilled fear into the hearts of countless citizens.
Darth Tyrannus, formerly known as Count Dooku, stood at the far edge of the red-rimmed counter, smiling politely. The smile did not reach his eyes however, Reclamation noticed. His solid black eyes glared maliciously, like the aquatic demons Reclamation had observed during a short stay on Earth with the deceased Prophet of Truth. Sharks. Tyrannus waved over to a hollow space next to the filled table.
"We are honored to have you part of the Confederacy of Independent Systems," the dark noble drawled. "Please, sit. We have much to discuss."
"My thanks, Dooku." Reclamation replied and proceeded to hover towards the empty space, followed by his fellow Prophets. Their guards walked to the side, the massive primates dwarfing the miniscule midgets.
Tyrannus' eyes twitched at the mention of his real name. These crones have the audacity to call me by my last name, he seethed inwardly. No matter, they will be dealt with accordingly at the end of all this.
Tyrannus sat down, clasping his hands together on the table surface.
"Now we are all here. First and foremost, I would like to introduce you to the Separatist Council. For formalities, I assure you."
The Sith apprentice gestured to a green-skinned Neimoidian in black dress robes.
"Nute Gunray, Viceroy of the Trade Federation. His fellow officers Rune Haako, Settlement Officer of the Trade Federation and Rute Gunnay, his personal aide."
The alien stood and lifted a palm in polite distaste, toad-like eyes bulging from their sockets. Reclamation decided he did not like the Neimoidian race, and merely lifted a delicate finger.
"San Hill, Chairman of the InterGalactic Banking Clan."
A tall, dome-headed humanoid dressed in an immaculate black suit stood and smiled at the Covenant representatives.
"Poggle the Lesser, Archduke of Geonosis and his aides. Sun Fac, his Chief Lieutenant is attending to domestic matters."
A small insectoid donning gray armor and a beard looked at the Prophets, beady eyes leering rudely. His transparent wings fluttered for a bit as he broke his gaze.
"Shu Mai, Presidente of the Commerce Guild, and her aide, Cat Miin."
Tiny female aliens with wrinkled blue skin, elongated necks ringed with silver bands, and small shriveled heads topped with an elaborate head piece stood gracefully, waving their palms politely.
"Wat Tambor, Foreman of the Techno Union, Executive of Baktoid Armor Workshop, and Senator of Skako."
A large being in a metal pressure mask and suit jerked robotically, his arms moving in what seemed to be a greeting.
"Passel Argente, Senator of Kooriva…"
The introductions seemed to take lifetimes, and Reclamation swore he could hear Enlightenment snoring quietly. Finally, when the last councilor sat, Tyrannus indicated to the Covenant.
"Now, for our revered guests, the High Triumvirate of the Covenant: The High Prophet of Reclamation, the High Prophet of Retribution, and the High Prophet of Enlightenment."
Reclamation smiled thinly, as did his brothers.
Tyrannus grinned back.
"Now that we are all here, let us begin."
The hologram dispersed and rematerialized into the hated symbol of the UNSC, then to the CAS. Lastly, the insignia of the Republic followed.
"The United Nations Space Command, the government of the newly found galaxy that has continued to pulverize our forces wherever we fight."
"The Confederation of Allied Species, a government from the same galaxy as the UNSC, and once bitter enemies. This is the faction that had broken away from the Covenant religion, according to our late informer."
Tyrannus looked to Reclamation and the Prophet nodded in affirmation.
"They are governed by a council of 'Sangheili', and militarily led by Rtas 'Vadumee and the Arbiter, Thel Vadam. Both are tremendous warriors, as shown in their numerous military campaigns against our droid army. Rtas' skill set showed considerably in the Mygeeto campaign. As a leader and a fighter, he is a force to be reckoned with. The Arbiter is no pushover himself. He single-handedly fought against our very own General Grevious, who is attending to pressing matters at the moment."
"Why are we discussing this?" Gunray inquired, wagging a pudgy finger. "We know of these details."
"Bear with me, Viceroy." Dooku replied, not even looking at him. "The UNSC has their fair share of contenders. Their infantry is second to none; not even the Grand Army of the Republic can match its skill. We have all seen them in action. The Army Ranger battalion on Dantooine, the Marine Corps. on Kashyyyk. The Orbital Drop Shock Troopers slaughtered the Geonosians during the Station 13 siege. We have even heard of so called Delta Force halting an assassination attempt on Naboo."
"Are we here to simply listen to a list of our most hated enemies, Tyrannus?" Shu Mai croaked. "If so, then I shall leave this hell-hole you call a planet."
"Hold your peace, Mai. I am getting to the point. Anyways, the list goes on and on. One certain group, however, has crippled our fleets and ground forces with terrible damage."
The hologram polarized and shifted to an armored giant, a figure resembling heroes of old.
"Demons," Reclamation gasped, hooded eyes fixed unto the picture.
"Spartans. The famed supersoldiers of the UNSC Navy. They are unbelievably strong, blindingly fast, and smart enough to trick a whole fleet into drifting into a mine field."
Dooku was referring to the Outer Rim incident, where several UNSC Prowlers set a trap for a CIS fleet intending to recapture Felucia. The SPARTAN-IVs had commandeered a stolen Separatist capital ship and led the unsuspecting armada into the deadly trap. Ejecting just in time, the soldiers watched as the fleet exploded.
"They are the epitome of the soldier, and not even the CAS' Special Operations or the Republic's ARCs can match their fighting prowess."
"They are the best," San Hill grumbled. He rubbed a patch of bandages behind his lanky shoulder. "One of them shot me through several layers of dense smoke."
"What if I told you, my council, that we managed to procure one?"
The Council Room was silent. Reclamation's mouth was working soundlessly as he digested the information. Alarus perked up, growling slightly at the mention of the Spartans.
"Also, what if I told you that we have figured out the majority of the technology wrought to bring this soldier into existence?"
Silence.
"In addition, what if I told you he is in this very room?"
The council erupted at that, jumping out of their chairs in confusion and fear. Reclamation hovered backwards, cocooned by his guards. Tyrannus merely smiled, standing calmly amidst a sea of terror. San Hill was cowering underneath the table, giant hands clasped around his head in fright.
Alarus withdrew his ancient gravity hammer, swirling it in a deadly arc. He jumped atop the table, curling a lip as he carefully scanned the room.
An orange flash rushed from the rafted ceiling, colliding against the Jiralhanae Army Commander. Alarus grunted in pain as he hit a power conduit behind him. Looking through squinted eyes, he saw the Demon.
Clad in tarnished MJOLNIR Mark-VI armor, he was an intimidating figure. Easily transcending seven feet, he seemed taller than before. A single golden visor stared at Alarus blankly, sending shivers down the Jiralhanae's spine. The Spartan said nothing as he jumped off the table and walked towards Alarus. Alarus snorted and stood, grasping his hammer in determined readiness. He bellowed and charged.
The Spartan met the rush, pivoting to his right and clutching the Brute's hairy right palm. The Spartan lifted the hammer and kneed the Jiralhanae in the solar plexus, earning a pained grunt. The supersoldier followed with a flat palm strike to the Brute's temple, sending Alarus crashing to the ground.
"That is enough, Reese." Tyrannus stated.
Reese picked up the gravity hammer and raised it above his head for the killing blow.
"I said, that is enough."
Reese's hands shook, but he finally lowered the instrument. He let it fall on top of the heaving Alarus. The Spartan walked calmly towards his master, as if nothing had happened. San Hill scrambled out of his way, whimpering like a pup. Dooku grinned and clasped Reese's shoulder.
Or what was once Reese.
"My feeble friends, this is our future. We have successfully bended this man to our will. He will do anything we command."
"How did you accomplish this?" Retribution wheezed, still hiding behind his bodyguards in terror.
"Simple. We captured him from the Station 13 fiasco and conducted experiments on him. We learned that he was trained from a very young age, and injected with several genetic enhancements, such as carbide ceramic ossification, the implementation of advanced material in order to make the subject's bones nearly unbreakable."
The council muttered at this, and Tyrannus noticed Wat Tambor's gaze fixed unto the still Spartan.
"For a government so inferior to us, their scientists have achieved something we have never been able to do. With these warriors, they won against enemies that were far superior."
He paused for dramatic effect, leaning forward and seemingly catching the eyes of everyone in the room.
"That, my friends, is what we will do."
"Operation: FIST." Poggle the Lesser warbled.
"Correct," Dooku responded. "Operation: FIST will try to replicate these Spartans, using their genetic enhancements and cloning technology."
"Where we will obtain the cloning procedures? The Republic holds Kamino, and the Kaminoans are a fickle race." Passel Argente asked.
"Our forces are acting as we speak. We have deployed five squads of BX-series droid commandos to the Kamino labs. The Republic is getting lax due to the additional help, so the job will be easy. They will obtain the cloning procedures from Kamino and bring them to us."
"They will have security, no doubt." Reclamation said for the first time since Reese entered the room. Even then, his eyes were still fixed unto the Spartan. "From our former collaboration, you have told me that this 'Kamino' is the birth place of all of the Republic's clone troopers."
"You are right, Prophet. Completely right. This will not be much of a problem, however, since the majority of their forces are committed to the Outer Rim. Plus, these are commando droids. They are no pushovers."
Reclamation nodded in satisfaction.
"Then what will we do after that?" Enlightenment croaked. "Surely you do not have much time before the combined force of these three governments destroys you."
"We will not be destroyed, Prophet of Enlightenment," Tyrannus said, a little scolding. "My master and our leader, Darth Sidious, has a fool-proof plan that will earn us victory over the trio of super powers. Also, we are planning a full-scale assault on the Core Worlds. All spearheaded by Sidious."
"Surely he cannot be that masterful. One must be quite powerful to accomplish such a task." Retribution replied.
"He is, my friend. I assure you, he is."
"Well then," Reclamation said, hands clapping together in finality. "What are we waiting for? We have a war to win."
0930 hours, May 30, 2576 (Military Calendar) \ Core Worlds, Coruscant System, Coruscant
PFC Wallace Rearback was having a good day.
A straight-out city boy, working at the UNSC Embassy on Coruscant was close to a dream-come-true. Strolling through the busy streets, catching the eyes of several beautiful females, it sure beat the Outer Rim sieges.
Dressed in his combat gear, he swaggered down the city sidewalk, brushing his curly brown hair proudly.
Being drafted in the middle of the Recuperation Era, the time after the Great War and the political rise of the UNSC as a galactic superpower, was a happy period for Rearback. He never was much of a fighter anyways; he just wanted to enlist for the title. Those were the days: Slurping coffee with his teammates, touring around Emerald Cove, seeing some lovely ladies. The only downside was the constant threat of the Insurrectionists. He remembered one dreadful night in Babylonia IV. He and his team were ordered to quell a rebellion in the city. The feel of the cold metal against his hands and the roar of gunfire still haunted him to this day.
Well, all that was behind him.
He smiled as he caught the gaze of a well-dressed, blue-skinned Twi'lek female among the heavy throng of individuals. She grinned slightly as he winked in playful flirtation. Just as he was about to approach her, the ground rumbled ominously. The crowd of people paused in their daily lives, looking about in confusion.
Up above, the sky traffic ceased in puzzlement, speeders slowing down mid-flight.
Suddenly, the sky boomed, and bright shafts of energy lanced from the atmosphere and struck a nearby business spire. The tower groaned, blocks of metal and glass showering down to the streets below. People screamed in terror and tried to flee; those who were too slow were lost amid the rubble. More turbolasers fired from space, raining down on Galactic City.
Rearback crouched to the ground, hands clasped around his ballistic helmet. Yellow words swirled around his green eyepiece. He tried to read them, but another barrage brought him to the ground.
Crowds were running in a mass exodus to safety, and Rearback saw several Coruscant Security Force barges picking up frightened citizens from the floor and atop building roofs. The unfortunate Marine's COM crackled as Command blurted out the news.
"Coruscant is under attack, I repeat, Coruscant is under attack. All available ground forces converge to Battalion HQ. 3rd Fleet, assist the Republic Defense Fleet. It is suspected that Grevious in command of the invading fleet. Engage and give no quarter."
There was a loud crackle, and the sound of an explosion blasted through the mike.
"Contact, contact! Droids are being deployed on the surface! Lewinsky, give me the radio! Lay down suppressing fire! God, where's the-"
Static.
Rearback groaned and stood wearily. The crowd was beginning to thin, and a spot of blue caught his eye. The female Twi'lek he saw earlier was trapped under a fallen light post, and she was screaming for help. Rearback cursed and raced over to the citizen, avoiding rushing people. He ducked as another laser struck a subway railing. Lifting the post, he carefully picked up the unconscious alien.
He bore the brunt of her weight on his back, limping away steadily as he prayed that he would not get vaporized.
"Oh, Wallace Rearback, what have you gotten yourself into this time?"
The invasion of Coruscant had begun.