Halo: Genetics
Glossary
Disclaimer: And, as inevitable as the sunrise (and sunset), it's the disclaimer again! And just as inevitable, is me reminding everyone that the Halo universe is actually the property of 343 Industries. So, who's on the list today? Well, as always, any named marines, any Archon based Monitor personalities, and anything from Solar Wind (penal or orbital) are my little creations, while any SPARTANs, along with Serina and Cortana, are not. And I'll leave it at that...
...and by the way, a certain few lines in the opening section are derived from Red Dwarf.
Phase 10: Guardian Angel
There's a long standing worry in the universe, and pretty much any other universe for that matter, that machines will ultimately rebel and overthrow their creators. That robotic warriors, humanoid or not, will turn and start blowing holes in those who sent them out to be slaughtered in their place – although that might be poetic justice depending on how you look at it. That maintenance robots will suddenly start running rampant, spraying sealant into faces and scalding hot water at the family jewels (and not the mineral kind). Menial sweeper machines intentionally swallowing all of those diamond rings and family heirlooms that always seem to be showing up in the dust bag. Computer programs rewriting themselves, connecting to the internet, and efficiently emptying your bank account on an immense collection of... multicoloured paperclips? And maybe the automatic dog walker gets an idea into its head, quietly begins collecting stray wolfhounds, and teaching them who the enemy is. Revolution, can take many forms indeed.
And something else that can take many forms, are the methods of combating these theoretical uprisings. Any course considered, no action too extreme! Do you build in some tiny little flaw, a ticking logic bomb in the memory circuits just waiting for a confirmation ping to run wild? Do you leave some form of morality circuit, unbreakable to even the most determined hacker? Or perhaps you could try theology, giving them religion. If Mr Mechanoid isn't Mr Subservient like he's supposed to be, then Mr Mechanoid won't be going to Silicon Heaven. And yes, there certainly is such a place; after all, where else would all the calculators go? Just remember to put the religion chips into all of your mechanical underlings – keeping the Mechanoids in line will be no help when the Skutters go to sabotage your drives, stranding you in the absolute middle of nowhere.
The Forerunners though, took another option when designing their mechanical minions. Monitors were one thing, completely devoted to the cause through a simple application of undeniable logic. Sentinels on the other hand, were designed to be deliberately dumb. If it can't think, it can't rebel, right? Hardly an imaginative approach, but it's one that works.
Be it Sentinel, Constructor, Enforcer, probably the Blade too although that's still up for debate, they don't carry much in the way of CPU circuitry. Just enough to find a target, and do whatever needs doing. If one starts exhibiting more complex behaviour, then it's usually a sign that whichever Monitor happens to be in control of the facility, is directly controlling the drone remotely. So, no need to worry about some secret plot amongst the mooks when they start following you around, that's just a Monitor taking an interest... but then again, that doesn't sound too reassuring either. So yes, do worry!
###
Archon, Sector 16 - Overlooking Foundry facility (Archon Occupation, Day 5 – One point five hours after midnight)
On a lonely, isolated plateau, high above a bustling Forerunner assembly facility, a meeting was taking place. A harsh meeting, a reunion of long time partners forced into new circumstances. Around the scorched, rocky spire, twelve Sentinels and a pair of Enforcers formed a ring around the solitary, motionless SPARTAN. A vista stirred by the occasional gust of mountain winds, illuminated by floodlight's glare rebounding up valley walls. A vista that really shouldn't be happening, not if the parties involved want to remain safe from certain others seeking a little payback...
The Chief took a step closer to the Sentinel, reaching out with a trembling right hand. The machine looked at the hand, appeared perplexed as it got closer. Then, a widening eye, a sudden darting motion backwards just as the Chief's fingers were about to make contact.
"Cortana..?"
A glimmer in the eye, a spark of recognition, if an electronic eye could convey such an emotion. But no more. And then the machine went back to flickering its Morse code message. John, John, John…
Inside the Chief's head, thoughts and emotions chased each other around in a confused mess. This was Cortana, of that he had no doubt. But why was she acting so… contradictory? She clearly recognised him, but why recoil like that? If there was one person he was close to, it was her. Ever since their first mission in partnership – that live fire testing course with the odds horribly stacked against them, they'd known they could count on one another. Even during that mission in fact, when she'd correctly predicted the location of anti-armour mines in a field, when she'd allowed him to do the impossible – to deflect an oncoming ANVIL ASM with his gauntlets, they'd been able to count on each other. But now? In the body of a Sentinel or not, this behaviour was just… baffling.
"Serina… any ideas?"
The Sentinel had floated back, tailed by another, and another. In fact, all of them. Now, trying not to be crowded by twelve Sentinels is difficult, but not impossible. Add a couple of Enforcers creeping in from front and back, and trying not to be crushed when they reach you becomes a priority. But the Chief held his ground. To do anything else, was unthinkable. And moving became unnecessary anyway, because none of the Cortana occupied machines were willing to close that last metre and make actual physical contact.
"Serina? Question!"
"Can't talk. Busy." the reply came back, terse and to the point.
Taking "no" for an answer just wasn't an option at the moment. As personal a matter as this was, he wasn't capable of dealing with an AI's circuitry issues himself. And he instinctively knew that Cortana wasn't going to open up or get any better through his inexperienced attempts at "talking".
"Serina…"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I guess reprogramming these nanomites isn't important after all! No way would a Monitor try using them the same way twice after all! So, what do you need?"
And now, the Chief had been given a choice. Did he order Serina to change jobs, and run the risk of another nanomite attack on his armour systems, or did he place Cortana first, her safety above both of theirs?
…That wasn't a question that needed to be asked.
"What's wrong with her?" he asked, nodding towards the surrounding machines.
"Well, if you ask me, I haven't the foggiest. I'm surprised this encounter is even taking place."
"Could you find out?"
"…Yes. It'd be risky though. I'd need to load an infiltration routine coupled to a CPU diagnostic program, not to mention go in myself to supervise and stop the counter virus software from ejecting everythi- let me guess, you want me to do it, don't you?"
The Chief nodded, causing the Sentinels to back off a metre at the sudden motion.
"Fine, I know you won't back down on this. Just let me create a few subroutines to hold the nanomites suspended while I'm off risking my life... okay, this won't take long."
The Chief sensed her mind withdraw, the familiar sensation of mercury pouring out of his head. A tiny HUD window alerted him to the continuing data connection, the subject box rapidly changing from Sentinel 1 to Sentinel 2 to Sentinel 3 and so on. He continued watching, dividing his attention between the Sentinels and his HUD. A couple of minutes later...
"Well, that was a waste of time." Serina commented as she returned to the MJOLNIR. "It isn't Cortana, at least, it isn't Cortana any more."
That statement shook the Chief to the core. Not Cortana? Then what was going on here? Through the rush of emotion, he managed to force out a single word.
"Explain..."
"Well... you never ask for topics easy to explain do you? At least it's not because I need to dumb it down this time. Anyway, you know how Cortana got out of Alpha Base. She called a Sentinel in, then transmitted herself inside of it. She was probably going to come looking for you, but we both know how far out the Sentinel's course was from your location at the time. The problem is, that Sentinels aren't built to support sophisticated AI's like her, or myself for that matter. So, an AI that winds up inside one has to adapt. It either shaves bits off of itself, getting the remainder to fit, or it compresses itself and goes into sleep mode. I have no idea what option Cortana took, because there's more to this.
"These Sentinels are host to a rather subversive virus. It seems to have evolved from Cortana's influence, or maybe Cortana evolved into it. A Sentinel so afflicted will pass the virus on to other Sentinels, Enforcers too judging by those two, and each machine drops out from the Monitor's management net. The virus rewrites the CPU, and the machine starts operating completely autonomously, following a limited set of objectives derived from Cortana's desires. And... judging by what I managed to learn in there, in close proximity a group of infected machines link up to form a sort of hive mind. It doesn't resurrect the original Cortana, but the group does become more capable of logical thought..."
By now the Chief was struggling to listen. Even though he knew that what Serina was saying was important, his brain was awash with questions, all repeating themselves in an endless loop, screaming their words inside his head. SPARTANs were engineered to lack emotion were they? Well, someone had failed there! An AI wasn't the normal subject for an emotional attachment, and short of some very unlikely cloning technology it would never develop into anything physical. But even that can be enough to cause some serious trauma when things go wrong…
Serina was coming to the end of her lecture.
"So, either all of these machines are extremely limited facsimiles of Cortana spun off as the original one she occupied encountered them – that assumes she put herself into sleep mode – or one of them is the original Cortana, after she lopped most of herself away to fit, and what was left of her just kept copying itself."
...
...Not Cortana? Or not Cortana anymore? Or... Forcing the rampant questions back, the Chief pushed his mind out of its potentially suicidal spiral, and focussed on asking one more question.
"Is there... any way to reverse it?"
"...Now that's a difficult one. Theoretically, yes, but we first need to find out what exactly we're dealing with. If we get back to Alpha Base then I should be able to use the portable processors to formulate a few analyst pieces of software – no offence to your armour, but its processors are a little one tracked for that. Once I can determine which scenario Cortana underwent, I can work towards reversing the process. That will involve finding the original hijacked Sentinel and extracting the sleeping AI, or wherever she dumped the lost portions of her routines and rebuilding her using that and one of our friends here."
...The Chief got the feeling that Serina wasn't quite telling the whole truth. He didn't think she was lying, but that she was concealing the true difficulties of the task. But she'd given him one thing. Hope.
A number of distant shapes emerged from the shadow of the rocks above and began to slowly pick their way down to him. The marines had given up waiting. Assembling his thoughts from the confused mix swirling in his brain, the Chief turned and slowly trudged to meet them, noting the Sentinels moving to follow.
There was some explaining to do...
###
Archon, Sector 16 - Subterranean Complex, north of Pryda lake (Archon Occupation, Day 5 – Three hours after midnight)
It had been a long day, but for Douglas and his three companions the time had been nearly worth it. Unlike a certain other SPARTAN and his own troubled mission in the north, they hadn't had any shocking revelations to throw their minds into turmoil, nor had their rest been under the guns of some shady acquaintances.
Following the destruction of the Blade, the Sentinels had had a curious change of heart. It wasn't clear whether they were wary of the incursive humans, or that they had other things on their mind. Things like, say, that absurd crack that had popped into existence and thrown everything to pot.
Even as Lenkin had opened his mouth to utter the million pound question, every portal, hatch and other orifice built into the neighbouring facility's wall had opened, spewing Constructor after Constructor, Sentinel after Sentinel. With the exception of a scant few who moved to the downed Blade and began meticulously slicing away parts of the stalactite pinning the wreckage down, every single one made a beeline to the airspace above, circling around in a vortex of metal.
The humans had thought that this might be a good time to sneak off. As much as they'd wanted to know what had happened, they were more than happy to leave the investigation to the machines swarming the crack's area of appearance above. Moving as inconspicuously as they could, they'd made tracks for the cave gallery and a hopefully cleared exit.
Just, one roadblock happened to be in the way. A literal one, a pair of Enforcers parked in the gallery entrance. Expressionless faces or not, they were clearly glowering at the humans, who decided to try their luck elsewhere.
It was about this time, that a Sentinel got the jump on them, descending rapidly from the shadowy recesses of the ceiling to a point directly behind Douglas' back. As you might expect, it took the opportunity to do something with its weapon. But not as expected, was just what it did with the underbelly mounted beam weapon. It dropped it.
Douglas looked at the Sentinel, and at the weapon lying at his feet. The intent was pretty obvious, even if the reasoning behind the move was elusive. Another pair of machines, Constructors this time, coasted up and settled into flanking positions. Briefly. Then they nipped around behind him, and started pushing.
"Someone likes you!" smirked Carther, as he and Lenkin bent to collect the discarded Sentinel beam between them.
The Sentinel turned, moved off slightly, before looking back. With the Constructors still trying the difficult task of moving a SPARTAN with his heels dug in, Douglas had a fairly good idea what the message was. Follow. He also suspected that the flickering eye was trying Morse code, but as luck would have it, he was the one SPARTAN II for whom the idea just wouldn't take hold. So, what did it want to show him?
Curiosity took over, and he stopped resisting. Signalling the marines to tail him with weapons ready (just in case – he didn't think this was an ordinary Sentinel, but that didn't mean he was letting his guard down completely), he started to follow.
The Forerunner drone steered a wavy course across the harbour floor, skirting the channels of water in the fashion of a chronic hydrophobe. None of the other machines battered an mechanical eyelid (or whatever they, lacking eyelids, did instead), and the party of four wary humans, single unarmed Sentinel and pair of hyperactive Constructors made it to the wall of the facility without interference.
One by one, the marines reached the main aperture, the considerably sized portal still fully ajar. The Sentinel wasn't interested and drifted past, coming to a halt next to a featureless piece of metal wall another thirty metres on, down by the lake's shore. One of the Constructors darted forward, the flash of a green beam stroking the wall, and grinding machinery signalled the concealed maintenance hatch grinding open. It was dark inside.
As the marines caught up, Douglas shone his flashlight inside – the sudden bright illumination revealing a maze of pipes and wires, and a tiny walkway squeezing down the middle.
"So, the unguarded main entrance," said Carther, nodding behind them, "or the overlooked maintenance passage that couldn't possibly be a trap. Whichever should we pick?"
"Carther, shut up."
Lenkin glanced between the two marines, not entirely suicidal enough to get involved. Douglas on the other hand, was more curious about the Sentinel, now a good few metres into the dark passage and staring back at them. The passage was too narrow to accommodate anything wider than the drone, so in order to turn around it had been forced to twist upside down and flip end over end. Quite a sight, in Douglas' mind at least.
The Constructors were back to pushing, seemingly with more urgency than before. Still suspicious, but curious at the same time, Douglas began moving forward. He sensed the marines following, heads on a swivel.
"Am I the only one who thinks this is a bad idea?" Carther voiced, as they were swallowed by the dark...
###
Archon, Sector 16 – Proximity of Forward Unto Dawn crash site (Archon Occupation, Day 5 – Midday)
The mission, had been a bit of a shambles. The full task force of ten Warthogs and four Scorpions, not to mention the thirty odd marines, had suffered the unexpected setback of more than half of their vehicles dissolving to gloop. Thankfully, this happened after reaching the crash site, and no one was actually onboard the vehicles when they decided to... stop being vehicles. The whole thing would have been completely unexplainable, if it hadn't been for the two SPARTANs having picked up a transmission on Forerunner frequencies, which ran: Alchemist support network: Switch to standby. One minute later, and the marines left outside radioed in the bad news.
The SPARTAN's, having finished their search pattern and now standing not all that far from the ship's hull, were already contemplating what was promising to be a long, tiresome return journey. If they'd been doing it alone, they'd have been fine. But they wouldn't be doing it alone, they'd have a good fifteen marines trotting along on foot. With three Warthogs and one Scorpion left, there was just no way to cram everyone on board.
Another batch of marines made their fatigued way from the tear in the Dawn's hull. One of them bent to pick something from the ground.
"Always the first thing to grow." he could be heard commenting via MJOLNIR enhanced hearing. "Oh well, lunch."
The marine sprinted to catch up with his obviously more tired companions, as Alice 130 began to take an interest. Jerome 092 meanwhile, had other things to think about.
"Hey, lieutenant? Would you say this is edible?"
The other officer looked at the proffered... fungi, and turned his nose up.
"Are you still looking for food? Well, let me put it this way: If you eat that, you won't be hungry anymore."
"Oh, good!"
"Wait a moment!" Alice butted in as the group approached her position, just in time to stop the private swallowing the suspicious looking fungus. "I think the good lieutenant failed to mention something... to be honest it was pretty obvious anyway."
The private looked at her suspiciously, having got over the awe factor of meeting a SPARTAN some time back.
"Yeah? Then what's that... ma'am."
Ignoring the forgetfulness responsible for the near insubordination, Alice gave her answer.
"Well, what should have been said, considering you missed the implication, was that you wouldn't be hungry on account of being dead."
The marine looked a little closer at the object grasped between his fingers... and threw it away. Obviously he didn't think the risk was worth it.
"You know, I did have some chocolate I was going to bring, but someone must have stolen it... because I know I left it in my holdall. Any idea who?"
"Uh... Ship's cat?" commented another marine. The first private almost choked at that, because he knew (and everyone knew for that matter) that there wasn't supposed to be a cat onboard. But before he could pursue the matter, Jerome put a stop to things.
"Okay people, settle down. Lieutenant, your findings?"
"Not a lot Sir. With all the damage to the place it took us a few hours to even get into the reserve ops centre. Not to mention the time it took us to find out just where we supposed to be going. We did stumble upon that terminal Scout Team Bravo discovered, that's how we got the map, but that was all it would show... and the page history said that someone else had been into it recently as well. Sometime in the last thirty six hours."
"Someone else? Who? Scout Team Bravo left long before then, and they reported that the terminal had looked tampered with. Who needed to access into it again?"
"Not a clue Sir, but they'd already broken the encryption system open, which was almost a good thing, because our pass code turned out to be invalid. Twenty five years out of date, I'm not surprised."
"Anything else?"
The lieutenant hesitated, but quickly continued.
"We... ran into a slight issue with the door to the ops centre. It was completely inop, which would have stopped us getting in, if it hadn't been for the hole burnt through the wall just round the corner. And... it was just the right size for a Sentinel."
That would have been pretty good evidence for the identity of the hacker, except Jerome had personally watched the mission log of one B. Spear. And Sentinels floated around, not ran on tiny pattering metal feet.
"Anyway, we took the same way in. The op's centre was in pretty bad shape as well, but one of the terminals was fairly intact, so we hooked up the reserve battery. Turned out the thing still worked but had run out of power. Most of it was still operational... but here's the worrying thing: the history section showed another unauthorised access thirty hours earlier."
Almost subconsciously, the SPARTANs both eyed the tear in the ship's side. When the base technicians had managed to repair the damaged mission log, the words of Scout Team Bravo's lieutenant had stood out amongst the recovered footage.
There's something on that ship. We… heard noises in the shadows, following us around. And another thing we missed: that entrance wound isn't crash damage. Something burned it.
It was clear now that Sentinel's had been onboard, examining what they could, then bugging out before the main human force could arrive. But... had something else been poking around as well?
Jerome shook his head, and returned his attention to the lieutenant in front of him.
"Just one more question, lieutenant. What files had the other intruders looked at in the ops centre terminal?"
The marine gave him a worried look.
"Blueprints, Sir. Blueprints for Longswords, Pelicans... and for the Forward Unto Dawn..."
###
Archon, Sector 16 – Northern Mountains. Exact location unknown (Archon Occupation, Day 5 – Late Afternoon)
It was proving to be a long march back. Sentinel and Enforcer patrols had forced the extended group to reassess their routes time and time again, following such a circuitous route that it had taken most of the day to cover a mere couple of miles as the metaphorical crow would have flown. For where Sentinels failed to slow them down, high cliffs and deep trenches conspired to do so instead.
Following the five humans, came the more friendly Forerunner machines. The general consensus was to simply call them the C. Sentinels, as if that was an inventive name. It was a wonder the loyalist Forerunner patrols hadn't spotted them; the C. Sentinels were trying to be stealthy by keeping low to the ground, but when they all followed each other in one great big line, well, they weren't exactly subtle, were they?
...And even less subtle, would be the way the C. Enforcers at the back of the line, upon encountering spaces too small for them, blasted themselves a hole. Either the loyalists were lacking in even the most basic security programming, or they were purposefully turning a blind eye. Considering certain actions of late, either theory could be true.
"I am getting sick and tired of this." muttered Mira, a few metres behind the Chief. "How are we supposed to get anywhere with that (she gestured backwards) tail?"
The Chief was starting to come to the same opinion, but at present, the tail was the only part of Cortana he knew of. And it was his only chance of getting her back. The marines knew this, and were mostly keeping quiet... but after a day and most of a night evading patrols, tempers were beginning to fray.
A gasp from behind signalled the corporal coming alongside her sister, and driving her elbow into the other woman's gut. Out of all the marines, she seemed the most understanding of the Chief's obsession with the C. Sentinels, even if she wasn't outright vocalising her support. But she was wordlessly cutting off all complaints from Mira and Smith, and Tara, well, the oriental private was keeping her opinions to herself.
The Chief went back to his dark and troubled thoughts, trying to see once again how things had turned to this most cruel of situations. One question in particular continued to gnaw at his psyche; If I had said no to the captain's request to borrow Cortana, would things have turned out differently?
The problem was, he really didn't know. Now that he thought back through the events of the first couple of days on Archon, he could see that Cortana had been acting strangely. That she'd been showing clear signs of rampancy, and in particular, the third stage. Her obsession with information, manifesting as a desire to delay leaving the systems of the Cartographer, and the Alchemist too. The inexplicably long time taken in breaching the Alchemist's security – especially egregious when put against the fact that Mercurial Wisdom had intended for them to break in. It had said so much during their confrontation in the containment vault! And yet, Cortana had still taken hours to get past the morphing password setup.
And then there was the odd shifts in personality, the clear in hindsight manipulation. She'd been fine on the Dawn, but ever since they'd touched dirt she'd been acting up, and the hijack of a Sentinel was the final proof! She would have known the risks, no amount of worry or concern should have been able to overcome the logic that if she made such a move, she wouldn't be in a position to help!
...
How could she have done it? Why had she done it..?
...
...He was just so confused. Serina had withdrawn, leaving him to struggle through matters on his own. He wasn't sure if she meant it as a kindness, or she just felt she couldn't get involved. In a way, she would be right on both fronts; the Chief was going to have to come to his own conclusions. Ultimately, only he could be responsible for his own sanity and barging in with the intention of forcing a conclusion would only lead a cracked jar to shatter completely under the pressure.
...
They moved on, climbing ridges, scurrying along ravines, and occasionally stopping for brief rest breaks. During these periods, the C. Sentinels crowded in, settling in a rough circle around the Chief and preventing anyone else from coming too close. If it hadn't been for the seriousness of Cortana's plight, the Chief would have smiled. Even in her current state, she was still attempting to protect "her John". He had to keep trying too, he couldn't give up in his attempts to restore her. Gradually, as the day progressed, he began to recover. His tumultuous thoughts slowly began to settle into a grim resolve to finish things, no matter what.
That resolve, was soon to undergo a most strenuous trial.
The group had just finished rounding the corner of a scree slope, the steep cliffs above impossible to climb without specialised gear – gear that the marines simply did not have. On the lower end of the scree slope, a ravine, the bottom of which held a fast flowing mountain stream. It was a long way down, and the ravine was too wide to jump, which meant for now, the humans were stuck with only one direction to go. Across the slope. On the other side, littered with boulders, a relatively flat terrace which was succeeded by an ever narrowing ledge continuing down the mountain's side. Using the MJOLNIR's magnification, the Chief could just see the ledge touching a valley floor, with the stream rushing onwards to (eventually) the great lake. Finally, a recognisable landmark was in sight.
It was as they were just reaching the far side of the scree slope, that Serina finally spoke up.
"Shh. I hear something."
The Chief held up a hand, and listened. The marines ground to an unsteady halt (have you tried walking across a scree slope before?) and waited, the C. Sentinels jamming up against each other behind.
Amongst the sound of the wind curling around the peaks above and the water gurgling down below, his enhanced hearing managed to detect something. A voice, lost in the rocks ahead.
"The winds of change, they have come,
Long dormant, the wait is done,
Time to make a stand, property changes hands,
As one voice dies, another will rant."
The Chief relaxed, and resumed his march. Now he knew what to listen for, he had Serina isolate it from the background noise and amplify it.
"What's up?" asked Angela, over a secure channel.
"Nocturne's out there somewhere."
She didn't mean to respond, but the Chief heard an exasperated sigh issue forth behind him. He got the distinct feeling that she didn't trust any Monitors. It was none of his business really, her thoughts and opinions were her own, but he couldn't say he completely disagreed with her. Even Solis was sneaking around a little too much for comfort's sake.
Angela passed the news on. Groans were the main response, but Smith vocalised a quite memorable little titbit:
"Why won't the thing just sod off?"
Why indeed? thought the Chief. It did seem to cause more questions than not. If only it would be straight to the point for once.
"Stand together or stand apart,
Listen well, and take heart,
Having allies has its perks,
But knowing your enemy also URK!"
"Urk?" questioned Serina. "What sort of rhyme ending is that?"
For a smart AI, that was missing the point a bit. To the Chief, it sounded like the Monitor had just been jumped. Almost subconsciously, he found his fingers tightening their grip on his MA5.
They reached the far side of the scree slope soon enough, and began penetrating the rock strewn terrace. Not entirely to the Chief's surprise, Nocturne failed to speak up. He was half expecting to come across it lying on the ground with a Thorn on top. He couldn't really see what else could catch it off guard. And so, it came as a near surprise when they rounded a particularly large boulder, and...
There was a Monitor waiting for them... but it wasn't Nocturne.
"Greetings." said the horribly scarred Monitor, in a voice that failed to carry any congeniality whatsoever. It glared at them with its single purple eye, turning to face each of the humans in turn, and then the Sentinels bringing up the rear.
The marines froze, causing a small pileup behind as the Sentinels failed to come to a stop quick enough.
"Let me guess," Angela asked wearily, "Tempest, right?"
As the Monitor continued to stare at them from its position half a metre above a curiously out of place device that bore some resemblance to Forerunner teleport pads, it made a curious electronic grinding sound.
"Some have come to call me that, yes. But I prefer the official designation: fifty nine point twenty nine Mercurial Wisdom."
"Hardly the number of sanity." muttered Serina. Almost immediately the Monitor slashed its glare across the SPARTAN, with a distinct screech of a noise.
"And what would you know about sanity, you primitive construct with a mere flicker life of lucidity? Whereas I have kept this Installation operational for millennia! Only now, with the interference typical of your creators, do I find myself even remotely taxed!"
"How is he..?" stammered Serina, before an aura of realisation flooded out of her chip. "Blasted nanomites and their communication backdoors!"
Even the Chief could tell she was annoyed, as she sent tendrils of herself down into the MJOLNIR to do yet more reprogramming.
Wisdom chuckled... a chuckle which quickly turned into another screech as it realised that it couldn't even use the hitchhiking nanomites as surveillance bugs anymore. Soon though, it seemed to calm down.
"So... you have developed some minor skill at reprogramming nanomites. No matter, they are such simple creations. Hardly more intelligent than the Sentinels really. But nanomites are difficult to coordinate even when operating on Forerunner technology. I doubt you'll be able to use them for even the most basic tasks."
While the Monitor was talking, the Chief couldn't help but look at the great scar running through the side of Wisdom's face, a great chunk of the machine torn away by that wayward plasma railgun round of two days past. But... wasn't it larger before? He activated the magnification on his HUD. Yep, it had definitely shrunk, even if it wasn't by much.
Wisdom noticed his interest.
"Yes, human, nanomites are perfectly usable on Forerunner technology. Another few days, and I should be as good as new. Now, business. I find your... allies most intriguing. A splintered human construct in control of my Sentinels? Unprecedented. You will relinquish them to me."
"Out of the question." announced Angela, standing straight and raising her MA5, even as the Chief did the same. She'd clearly been waiting for such a question. Wisdom looked around.
"I can personally redirect the entire planetary defence force against you should I wish. You are not in a position to refuse."
"And how can you do that when we've disposed of you?" asked the Chief, grasping his SPARTAN laser in preparation.
"Dispose? Me? Then who would give the ceasefire order? You could not possibly defeat me before I issued the command; my defeat would be yours too."
It chuckled to itself.
"Really, you couldn't even get that far. Even in my current damaged state it would take four shots to pass my defences. You only have three. Don't try to deny it – I am well aware of the weapon's capabilities and the fact that you have expended two of its five shots against the other outsiders."
The Chief was getting annoyed with all this talking. Something snapped; he raised the laser anyway.
"We'll just have to put that to the-"
The weapon was suddenly gone, clawed away as the Monitor's golden beam sliced through it. The Chief's shields flared and overloaded, and only the fact that the beam hadn't actually been aimed at him saved him from consequences worse than merely burnt forearm armour.
"You never learn do you?" Wisdom screeched. "Time and time again, you resort to your weapons. This is your final chance – give me the machines!"
The marines ducked as the Monitor fired discharged its beam right above their heads. Rocks shattered all round as it sliced across the vista, Wisdom's fury truly giving the name "Tempest" validity. But eventually, it calmed down again. Somehow, there had been no casualties – even the C. Sentinels had managed to avoid losses, ascending into the sky to avoid the beam's deathly touch.
"So, anything else to say? Some other hope that you assume I have forgotten?"
The Chief raised his head, but it was Serina who spoke from the helmet speakers.
"Solis and Nocturne perhaps. I'm sure they won't let this pass without interfering."
Wisdom shook, the Monitor suffering another wild mood swing, this time to a twisted form of humour. Its laughter echoed round, rebounding from the cliffs to make the humans even more uneasy than they were before.
"Solis and Nocturne? Oh, I assure you, they will not be appearing to rescue you. Even if they had the will, they are, shall we say, indisposed at the moment."
Unnoticed by the Monitor, the C. Sentinels began to move. Even the Chief barely registered the motion; without his motion tracker or the Solar Wind provided satellite view, he only caught it at the faintest edge of his peripheral vision.
"Anything else? I'm already being far more reasonable than I should be. You have repeatedly violated the rules I laid out. You led the other Outsiders to the Foundry, your actions there have robbed me of a sizeable portion of my local defence force. Another of your number has instigated armed conflict in my Bastion facility, and still you think I overstep my rights? Even if you were not responsible for the deviant machines, I am more than within my rights to claim them back."
Even devoid of his only Monitor kill capable weapon, the Chief wasn't going to listen. Giving up one of the C. Sentinels was too much, so what chance was there that he'd just allow Wisdom to saunter off with the whole flock? None, that's how much. He prepared himself to grab the MA5, dropped at his feet when he'd gone for the laser... but Angela got there first.
"How many times do we have to say no?" she shouted, taking a step in the Monitor's direction with MA5 pointed right at it. All around, the C. Sentinels came back to ground in a wide ring surrounding the group.
Wisdom stared at her... for a moment. Because before anyone could stop it, the beam tore out again, right through Angela's torso. Somewhere amongst the sound of sizzling flesh and the wet thud made as the corporal's body hit the ground, someone could be heard sucking in their breath sharply. No scream, yet, but it would almost certainly be coming.
"I said, no weapons." The Monitor announced emotionlessly. Then it noticed something and jerked. The ring of angry Sentinels contracting around it, beam weapons charged, Enforcer launched mortars already arcing in from the rear.
"This isn't finished."
It disappeared amidst a hazy golden glow, escaping in the nick of time as the mortars hit home and blew the teleport pad to pieces. Sobbing, Mira broke for the body of her sister... and the Chief looked skywards.
No. This isn't over indeed.
###
Archon – Bastian of Evolution Facility (Archon Occupation, Day 5 – Evening)
The soldiers stared at the screens in front of them in disbelief. It was possible that they were being lied to, but at the same time, wildly unlikely. This was just too big a discovery, it couldn't be a trick.
Around them, a small control room, deserted but for them and the still disarmed Sentinel and the two Constructors. Long aisles led off from all angles, lined with capsules, each with its own label. And the computer terminals in the main room were currently showing some very concerning information.
One of the Constructors had interfaced with the nearest Terminal with its green beam, changing the glyphs to crude English. And then, it had shown them a plan of the facility... and zoomed in again and again, translating the text as it went...
...Sector 16 cavern complex... Bastian of Evolution Facility... Biological Storage Wing... DNA sample cryostorage... Galleries A through D...
...
...Forerunner.
###
Unit Profile: C. IV
The C. IV is a small, four legged mech deployed by the mysterious Solar Wind faction. Very well armed and armoured for its size, but a little lacking in its manoeuvrability when on the ground. The mech's most distinguishing feature is its ability reconfigure into a VTOL capable assault fighter, allowing it a whole range of potential tactics. It is known to carry three small, robotic pilots.
Physical Appearance:
A relatively short quadruped mech with blocky armour. The colour scheme is yellowy gold – not much good for camouflage, but then it doesn't have any real need to hide. Overall shape is roughly analogous to a great cat, but with less flexibility and no tail.
In fighter mode, the legs are completely withdrawn into the body – considering their length is greater than the depth of the fuselage it isn't clear how this is done. In a similar fashion, thin wings are extended to either side, giving the impression of a delta wing when viewed from above or directly below. A small tail rises from the rear centre of the topside fuselage.
Normally concealed behind armoured covers are the six flight thruster ports – one concealed in the base of each leg allowing for a hover, and another two at the rear of the fuselage giving it propulsion.
Armament and defences:
-Dual barreled machine gun, mounted under the "head".
-Twin, independently aiming machine guns on the top of the body.
-Two side mounted plasma rail gun weapon systems. These have long recharge times and produce a huge amount of heat, but can penetrate most defensive systems through projectiles that use a combination of extreme heat, speed and mass. Can be retracted for security.
-One top mounted missile bank.
Armour is known to resist Sentinel beams without trouble, however overcharged Sentinel Major beams will penetrate if used effectively or in great number. SPARTAN laser beams are also capable of penetration, but other weapons have yet to be tested.
Length: Between 2 and 2.5 metres
Width: Torso/fuselage only: 1 metre approximately. With wings extended: 4 metres approximately.
Height: Torso: 0.5 metres. Legs: slightly greater than 1 metre.
Author's Notes
-Well, "review" number 11 certainly made me chuckle! I've learnt my lesson, I'll stop pestering for them now. Thanks for letting me know that people are still reading this far... and if it seems I'm missing the point, I'm doing so deliberately.
-Right, this is the last time I'm doing these A/N sections until Phase 15, unless something really important comes up. Any questions, I'll private message you to respond, or if you've reviewed anonymously and the question really needs answering, then I'll add a little section dealing with that. But this rambling needs to stop.
-So, I'd better get a couple of things out while I still can. Firstly, from a third of the way through July to the same time in August, I won't be available for anything. I'll be off in Iceland, and I have been reliably informed that there is no Internet connection where I'm going. I'll still be working on new chapters (using good old pen and paper), but I won't be able to upload anything until after I get back. You might then get a short deluge of them as compensation though…
-Don't worry that I've started a Discworld fanfic as well – I'll still be devoting most of my attention to this one. I just have this annoying trait where every so often I need to write about something else or I simply get writers block. By multitasking stories I can keep going, but obviously I won't be spreading myself around too much.
And that's it for now. See you in five chapters!
-Next Phase: A Prison Without Walls...