Author's Notes: Weeeeell hello everyone, merry Christmas and happy holidays! I was planning to put this out the 25th as a Christmas treat for you all, but I can't wait to put this shit out. The mass-crossover is becoming more and more of a no-go to me and any OC races submitted CANNOT, I repeat, CANNOT have Human factions of any respect. Things like strange, feathery bodies with just a damn human face copypasted on it does not appeal to me, and I will not place it in my story. If you say that it's a bipedal race, double jointed knees, leathery skins, opposable thumbs and a unique face, then I will take it in. That's all I'm saying because on the other subjects, you guys have gotten the right idea (religion, tech, culture, etc). Without further ado, have a Happy New Year and enjoy the last chapter I'll be posting on this story for 2014!
PART 2- THE GREAT WAR
Armageddon's Last Stand
June 5th, 2532: Te is successfully retaken by Chieftain Captain Tartarus's and Special Operations Commander Rtas 'Vadum's plan, their united fleet taking a sustainable loss. Though a Chieftain Lieutenant was lost along with a pair of Supercarriers, many Raiders, Hunters and other forms of Lekgolo were brought to the SA's support that day. Through Commander Tametaro Krusin's union with Te's capital's Clnylekgolo, a central hivemind that could be called an organic AI that controlled the metropolis's troops and defenses, a large reserve of the heavy units turned sides in favor of the Separatists. Not having accounted the possibility of such a thing being possible, the two leaders had all Separatist Raiders in their fleet head towards the most heavily populated cities and take control of them through the Clnylekgolo. Heavy SA losses recovered and more with the world's population siding with them after all the fighting, the Alliance has gained confidence with the successful taking of the Covenant's cannon fodders and heavy units homeworlds.
June 7th, 2532: Returning with their prizes reaped, the SA Leaders are satisfied and relieved to hear of the news. The Chieftains reunite with their brethren to properly mourn for their lost brother's death date, despite being a few days off. When the Special Operations Commander inquired of his close friend's wellbeing, they offered no Intel of what had happened or how they had fared as they had none to begin with. This has put many on edge, seeing just how important and powerful the young Supreme Commander Thel 'Vadam. Being seventy-five years old and having accomplished as much and more than most of kind had at their late two hundred years, he was an invaluable asset that the SA had gained. Only Rtas 'Vadum had matched his value at the same age as him, both having trained in their youth together. Even if 'Vadam's life wasn't put into account, then the seventeen missing SPARTANs sent on that mission were. Talk of assembling another fleet to scavenge the one that had dropped contact with them was becoming more and more common within the Unyielding Hierophant.
February 13th, 2533: Incursions continue from both sides, though with the SPARTANs unavailable and defending colonies rather than continue stealth operations, the talk of taking more homeworlds has come to a halt, putting the relatively newly liberated Unggoy and the newly converted Lekgolo to aid in their now defensive stance. On both Te and Balaho, there have been as many as a hundred Orbital Defense Platforms created and placed on each planet, still not the staggering three hundred that surround Earth, yet far better defended than even the Covenant held homeworlds. Not too many resources can be committed to placing two hundred more ODPs per homeworld, not including the Humans', given how most are needed to fabricate ships primarily. The SA Leadership is now rallying ships that aren't committed to protecting systems to form a fleet in search of 'Vadam, the SPARTANs under his command and the rest of his troops. It has been noted how the Covenant has been retracting troops with an unnerving frequency, which has led many to try and convince higher commanders to lead missions against them. The Leadership, somewhat paranoid with the sudden actions, kept their troops still on their defensive posts in mistrust as to the motives for the Covenant playing it safe all of the sudden.
15:23 – February 14th, 2533 – The Spirit of Fire Bridge
Captain James Cutter sighed as he took another sip of coffee. For two and a half days he hadn't gotten any damn sleep, and now it was taking a heavy toll on him. Serina had suggested on several occasions in the past few hours to lock himself up in one of the cryo-chambers to at least make himself get some shuteye. But with everything happening in the last few days, the last thing he wanted to do was snore in what could be the definitive end of the planet they were in, not on, in. Armageddon had been an enigma from the start. The planet itself was filled to the brim with Forerunner structures, but both Cutter and 'Vadam had deemed it as a good fortress, nothing more. That was before their entire damn fleet was 'sucked' by the planets 'enhanced artificial gravity'. They literally went for a whole week through the outer layer of the planet to find a star inside along with inhabited terrains coupled with a Covie fleet of six hundred. Or four hundred and fifty, more likely.
For the first two months of their search of the planet, they'd encountered a massive fleet of seven hundred, which they got the drop on and took down a hundred. They hardly seemed to care and instead fled lightspeed to more specified coordinates. The ones given to himself and the Supreme Commander had been a bit vague, a sector of ten close systems at the end of the Orion Arm, to be exact. In their search for the fortress world, they found the Covenant and hit them hard and fast, which led them to chase the fleet into one of the systems. There they found the giant Fortress World and realized the opposing fleet had disappeared. After entering it, however, the surprise was hardly welcomed by any of both sides.
It had been then, around August of the year 2531 that they managed to get out none of their messages, reports and pleas to the SA HIGHCOM. Many times they'd asked for bigger fleets or tried to warn them of the dangers of the gigantic planet both from the inside and the outside, and yet nothing went out of the planet. Since then, it had been nothing but strategy against the Arbiter, well placed bases and outpost to cover their ground on the planet, and pure endurance. That's how it came to be that for nearly an entire year and a half, both sides had been struggling to gain the planet. Or rather, destroy it on the SA's part.
After learning that Armageddon had been contaminated with a deadly parasite, putting it very lightly, designated the Flood, both 'Vadam and Cutter had agreed that nothing on the planet was worth letting such a deadly lifeform live. Besides that, they'd learned about how a good sector of the planet was conformed of seven-kilometer-long ships, reaching out like towers to the heavens. When they learned that there were nothing short of a million, they figured that it was too much for either side, knowing well what would happen should they land onto undesirable hands. That went especially without saying considering the third party inside of the planet.
The Innies had given them all a hard time, establishing bases long before anyone else and wielding bits and pieces of Forerunner tech on the planet. Sure, they'd been the smallest of the bunch, having only two hundred warships, most being Human, a couple of other SA warships stolen by their craftier minds. With their horrible timing and their supremacist ideals that matched the Covenant's, he had no regrets when he issued the order to heavily bombard their bases and stray ships. Most of his orders were cut back however, as suggested by the Supreme Commander. He truly had to admit that his superior was a brilliant strategist, he using a technique that he'd remembered had been used centuries back by the Nazis against the Russians. It was the procedure he praised, not to be confused with the ideals. The strategy? Encrypt false information enough to make it seem like it was important, but not to the point that it would be unhackable. The result of this was that the Covenant picked up and deciphered the data and presumed the Insurrectionists were part of an SA branch. With that in mind, they went and stormed through the bases and the fleets, destroying all in their path while getting crippled themselves. Then 'Vadam would have his own fleet destroy the already wounded foes. That led them to have the odds evened in their favor in the Shield World.
And now he waited, looking out his own UNSC Phoenix-class Warship Spirit of Fire at the landscape bellow. In his ship had lain dozens of experimental schematics generally of vehicles, many of which he considered discarding for their lack of versatility. The Wolverines, the Cobras, the Cyclopes, and the Gremlins had too few specific uses to actually be useful in battle without several other vehicles nearby to take care of the other specified enemy units. The Vultures he admittedly had considered to ask HIGHCOM for mass production given how it was their best counter against a Scarab. The Elephant was already commissioned on several UNSC Warships, something he approved of, and the Warthogs and Scorpions had been useful for many decades already. The others, he viewed as a waste of resources. The only other vehicle he'd given consideration to was the Hawk. In his eyes, the UNSC would be better off decommissioning its Hornets and replacing them with their new and improved version. The Grizzly… well, the Sergeant was always passionate about their firepower, but Cutter saw them as too costly for common placement. Maybe a few that varied per warship and size could be handed out, in case the situation got too messy.
He sighed in annoyance as he shook the intruding thoughts and reports from his head and actually looked beyond him. Under the belly of the Long Night of Solace, their fleet was ready to depart from the planet, Sergeant Forge, Red Team, and the Supreme Commander heading down with several forces to secure his ship's hybrid slip-space engine to ensure that it would be set off.
The plan was to have it sent upwards and into the star, causing it to explode and incinerate the planet and all of its inhabitants and ships as suggested by Doctor Anders. To do that, they needed to escort the engine and ensure that it got to its location safely to a rocket built by the SA fleet. Equipped with the best stealth systems, the rocket would go undoubtedly undetected towards the star, giving them thirty minutes to deactivate the shielded exit and escape the planet. Apparently, amongst the reasons they couldn't go in and out of the planet through slip-space was because of an advanced safety measure created by the Forerunners that built the place. Their best idea was to deactivate the portal's shields, use the star to catapult themselves through and out and escape the planet and return to the SA.
There were a thousand different scenarios going through Cutter's mind, all of them as to how anything and everything could go wrong with the plan. And yet, it was the best idea that they had, and no one could think of one better. Taking another drink, he ordered, "Serina, notify me when the Sergeant and Red Team are enroute to the Spirit of Fire. When you do, make sure to warm up the engines. As soon as they get here, we make our trajectory out of this place once and for all."
"Understood, Captain. Calculating the best and quickest course out of this world for the Spirit of Fire and the fleet with our makeshift slingshot." She replied with a mischievous smirk. Cutter groaned, placing his face in his right hand as he fought the sleep that threatened to overwhelm him.
15:29 - February 14th, 2533 – Armageddon Rocket Site
Sergeant Forge looked around him and back at the prism shaped engine. He was holding his shotgun with his right hand as the barrel rested on his right soldier. Around him was an entire platoon of Spartans, something that would have made most marines piss themselves from excitement. Him? He tried to fuck around with them, see where that got him. He didn't provoke them like some of the other idiotic ODSTs tried, but rather tried to joke and socialize with them. With anyone else, they wouldn't budge, but with him they at least had the decency to reply to. Sure, they were short, practically robotic answers, but that was better than the silence they gave to most. That was, of course, until he met Jorge. The only one naturally open and talkative to him and not just because he respected his skills in battle.
They'd talked together for a while on the bridge where Professor Anders had been forced to activate the ships that stood all around them as the pillars between the sky and the ground. The metallic bridge they were on stood in the middle of the two, levitating at three kilometer's height. Anything that fell from the sides had no way of surviving, let alone getting back up. Still, the platoon stood at ease, all awaiting for the makeshift space rocket to take the engine and start its thrusters. In the meantime, Forge had chosen to talk to the titanic war hero, trying to pry as much information from him as possible in a friendly manner.
When he asked him how the hell they were all so damn huge and powerful, he for once got a simple 'classified' from the giant. When he asked him if it had to do with ONI, the Spartan gave a discreet nod. He then chose to back down and stop badgering him on about the subject and proceeded to inquire him about the Supreme Commander, who stood farther away taking the role of a sentry. He knew the reports, all analytically stating that the guy was a natural born badass, but he preferred to hear it from someone who actually worked with the veteran. All the Spartan told him was he would have to see for himself.
He had to admit, with Jorge around, he got to know the crew a lot better and easier than expected. Behind him, he heard a few groans coming from the two hundred meter tall rocket as some of its doors opened, allowing entrance to the engine. Several giant magnets transported the prism inside, where in its place at the rocket's middle were several anti-gravitational machines to keep it safely levitated at its middle. The doors then shut with a loud clank, which gave way to the sounds of several footsteps closing in on them.
Forge looked over to the empty walkway towards the rocket and found several Sangheili Honor Guards, at least a dozen per Spartan, walking towards them. Long spears in hand, they marched on towards them ominously. It was then that 'Vadam roared, "I count two hundred and sixteen Honor Guards, all heading this way! Prepare yourselves, Spartans, and do not let any get to the rocket! Sergeant Forge, assure none get to it!"
Forge gave a nod to the Commander, who'd primed his Energy Swords. All of the Spartans around him, including the giant next to him, readied their weapons at the incoming mass of warriors. In the corner of his eye, Forge spotted a transparent mist speeding past the guards. The beginning of a smirk forming on his face at the thought of payback, he asked the giant, "So Jorge, you think you and your pals can take on about two hundred elite guards? You know what, forget I said that. How long do you think it will take you oversized bastards to kill the Covies coming this way?"
"Heh, hard to say, Forge. Five minutes, give or take?" The giant guessed with what Forge could only guess was a smirk on his face. He chuckled, getting out of the way as the Spartans sped past him, he looked at 'Vadam leading the lot to the onslaught about to occur. The mischievous grin still on his face, he looked around him readying his shotgun as he murmured, "Now let's play hide and seek, shall we?"
Facing forward and walking backwards until his head was against the cold, hard metal of the improvised rocket, he looked around to try and find his match. In a second, a transparent figure sped towards him, Forge rolling out of the way as the rocket was stabbed. Getting a shot through, the Arbiter's Active Camouflage faltered as his shields thickened from the blast. A second blast and they were down, but by then the giant had already sliced his weapon in half, leading him to charge and ram into the Sangheili. In a second, the two were down, Forge on top as he grabbed with speed and dexterity his magnum and shot at the giant's sword wielding hand. The giant grunted as a bit of blood spurted from his palm while most bullets were deflected by his armor and threw the Human off of him.
The Sergeant managed to shoot at the giant's knee as he got up, earning an annoyed roar from the beast. Aiming the pistol at the head and pulling the trigger, he paled to hear the distinctive click it gave when out of bullets. Scowling, the Arbiter made for a swing and hit Forge square in the chest with a single jab, sending him back as he hit the unforgiving ground. Nearing the edge of the bridge, both sides giving ways to a massive cliff that only the Forerunner ships managed to reach out from, he moved when the giant attempted to stomp on his form. Taking only half a second to look at the battle between the Spartans and the Honor Guards, he knew the former were winning, but would not make it in time to help him kill the Sangheili leader.
The half a second he wasted took a heavy toll on him as he was hit on the side of his ribs, finally knocking him to the ground again. He coughed a bit, placing his hand over his fractured bones within his chest as he managed to get on his knees again. Greeted with a large hoof to his face, he fell once more. Coughing the blood that accumulated in his mouth, he felt himself be seized by the neck in a strong grip, he looked at the Arbiter's now uncloaked face. "Y'know, you're much uglier up close. Has anyone ever told you that?"
The Arbiter hardly paid mind to his taunt, knowing that he already had the kill and instead replied, "For someone of a kind as pathetic as yours, demon, you've fought better than most. But…"
He stopped to look at the infinite amount of titanic columns around them that were the stationed Forerunner ships and continued, "With my new strength, nothing will stop me from eradicating you Humans. Not some pathetic Sergeant and certainly not a pathetic rocket."
"Oh yeah? Why don't you look at me in the eyes and say that?" Forge growled, prompting the giant holding him to chuckle and turn his head to him. "Very well."
Raising his other arm with an active Energy Sword raised and about to stab him, he repeated, "I shall take these holy warships, drive your kind and all of your heretic allies to extinctions and secure the way so the Prophets can activate the Holy Rings and bring the Great Journey upon-AHH!"
The giant howled, holding his moderately wounded wrist in pain, the one stabbed by Forge to set himself free. The Sergeant, who'd run back and grabbed the first Energy Sword the giant had dropped down, holstered his knife and remarked, "You talk too much."
Roaring in a fit of rage, the titan ran at the man, attempting a stab that was deflected by his opponent. With adrenaline bursting through their veins, the two went off at one another like wolves attempting to establish dominance. Each swing being deadly, neither gave room for the other to breathe, though it was obvious that the Arbiter held the upper hand. It was only because the Sergeant had wounded him that the giant was slow, but then again, the only thing that had prevented the Arbiter's punches and kicks on him from being lethal where his experimental shields. A souvenir he'd gained from saving Anders.
Raising his leg back and imprinting his armored hoof onto the Sergeant's chest, the latter's Energy Sword went flying and was caught by the former. No more intents of talking, he was only stopped by a powerful, commanding voice, "Arbiter Ripa 'Moramee! In the name of Sangheilios and those of the Old, I, Thel 'Vadam, Supreme Commander of the Separatist Alliance, challenge you to a duel!"
The giant stopped in his footsteps, snarling viciously as he turned, "I don't duel with heretics, you mongrel-"
No more words escaped his mouth as he finished turning his body. The sight before him was one of a mass, unburied graveyard, the hundreds of corpses being his Honor Guards'. All seventeen Spartans were holding a variety of different weapons, all facing him menacingly. The only one not taking aim at him was the Supreme Commander, who like the Arbiter, wielded two Energy Swords. Forge couldn't help but laugh at the sight, managing to cough out, "See that, big fugly? Looks like you don't have much of a choice."
The Arbiter let out a seething grumble as he turned to the fallen Sergeant once more with his right sword raised high. A speedy bullet from one of the sniper using Spartans put a halt to his actions. The Supreme Commander took a few steps forwards, giving him distance between his opponent and the Spartans, scowling. "Turn, Arbiter, and face your crimes before I plunge my blades through your back and carve out your hearts."
Finally, the Arbiter turned to the Supreme Commander, taking a few steps towards him and distancing himself from the Sergeant. "If you think I shall fall easily, then you are even more ignorant than I was led to believe."
"On guard!" 'Vadam shouted, taking a fighter's stance with both his Energy Swords set for use. 'Moramee took a similar posture, if not with a small limp, and glared menacingly at the Commander. He roared and charged while 'Vadam stayed in his defensive position. Right arm raise in an attempt to swipe down onto the Commander while the other reeled back for a stab, the Arbiter's blades were stopped by one of the Commander's while the other buried itself perfectly into both of his hearts. The Covie's eyes widened, his mind and body not having have had the time to process the death that had consumed them. In a quick motion, 'Vadam withdrew his blades and holstered them.
The Arbiter fell within seconds, his glowing eyes still maintaining the shock from the final seconds of his life. The Commander looked at the corpse in disgust, motioning to the others, "Dispose of the body, but retrieve the armor. It is time for it to no longer be worn by failures and criminals, and it is time for it to regain the importance and honor it once held."
Forge looked on with wide, bewildered eyes at the SA superior. The Arbiter, known for having led the destruction of many colonies and being a master strategist as well as an excellent fighter, was killed in a single motion by the Supreme Commander. He could only guess that the Spartans were not surprised, given their lack of emotion and movement until they were finally ordered by the Sangheili. Then again, their polarized visors allowed no one to look at their faces and expressions. The Commander walked over to him and lent him a helping hand, which he took appreciatively. Chuckling a bit, he asked, "Did I soften him enough for you, Sir?"
Rather than maintain a strict posture like most of his kind, he smirked a bit instead and countered, "You've fought hard and well, Sergeant Forge. Very few have come out of a battle against 'Moramee and lived, you being amongst the few to hold your ground more than well enough. I must admit, the wounds you gave him and the state of rage you put him in facilitated my victory, you have my thanks. Remind me of that when we return to my ship and I shall request a promotion you very much deserve."
"Heh, I'm flattered, Sir, but that won't do too much good. I've been promoted a couple of times before and then demoted for 'insubordination' and 'assaulting my superiors'. Of course, no one wants to admit that some orders were complete horseshit, pardon the language, and those superiors were looking for an ass-kicking themselves."
"In my culture, if a warrior, no matter the rank, does an act against the rules imposed by the leader of the platoon, it is put on trial if he or she truly believes if it was right. If the warrior did the act on instinct and turned out to be successful and more so than if he kept to the rules, the warrior is pardoned and at times is even considered for a promotion. Amongst those of my kind, one who has the natural instinct and strength to do the right thing is worth more than just pardoning his or her actions, it is a trait very much venerated. I like to believe that that's what's led me to earn the rank I hold now, a value I now see in you. Besides, even if you're not looked at with prestige by either my species or yours, I've seen the rather unorthodox methods used by the Jiralhanae which are looked at in favor by their kind. One way or another, your talent is guaranteed to be found."
"Thank you, Sir. I'll keep that in mind when we come back home. That'll have to wait though, we still need to get that exit open if we're ever going to get the hell out of here." The Sergeant remarked, now understanding the esteem the Supreme Commander had earned. He nodded, continuing, "I shall call for a pair of Phantoms to bring us to the site of the portal, and I shall make sure that a fair amount of my force's strength clear all enemies that may attempt to protect the gate."
15:47 - February 14th, 2533 – Armageddon Gate Site
Forge found himself talking again to Jorge after having a first aid kit administered to his minor to moderate injuries. The Phantom they rode on had provided more than enough to help him recover and render him useful in battle again. Though for a while they'd been talking mainly the strategy to fighting off the ground forces in the area as quickly as possible, now they were taking on a more leisurely conversation. At least, for a soldier's standard it was.
"So you managed to get two shotgun blasts into him, a couple of bullets and a stab before he got you down?" The giant inquired.
"When you put it like that, it sounds like I lasted half a minute. I mean shit, I was head to head with this guy with his own damn sword! Hell, I'm still pretty damn thankful that the Commander saved my ass. Speaking of which, now I see why the guy is worshiped so much. He killed the Arbiter, the same elite that's been giving the SA hell for years, in a single move. That one's for the record."
"That's Supreme Commander Thel 'Vadam for you. Tactically unpredictable, strategically intelligent and innovative, and talented at fighting on nearly every terrain with almost all, if not all weapons. I've been a witness to a fight between him and one of us Spartans, I'm not going to say who, which he won. That's something no Covie has managed in years. If I were to fight the man, it'd have to be on familiar terrain and with the weapons of my preference to have as many odds in my favor as I possibly could to win."
"Now that's something I'd like to see." Forge remarked as he heard a small alarm-like noise coming from his forearm. Looking at the pad, he looked at the counter for thirty minutes finally coming to a start. For once, he grimaced a bit. "Timer's started, half an hour 'till the rocket's out."
"And we're here." Continued the large Spartan at the sight of the transport side doors opening to let them through. They hopped onto the terrain, partly brown and grassy, partly yellow and barren. They stood in front of a tall, thick, pyramid-like Forerunner console. The metal wasn't quite as grey as the one standardly used in the UNSC military, but not quite as white and elegant as some of the other Forerunner Alloys used.
He heard over the comms the familiar Professor's voice say, "To all the troops aboard Armageddon, the six Forerunner consoles put on each corner of the portal are what will have its shields deactivated. From my readings say, we can't just press them all in whatever order we want, we have to do it in a certain order. They have to be deactivated in pairs, the ones in opposite corners, to be exact. That means we'll need the ground covered from all six sides and at least one human around to deactivate them within at least twenty minutes, twenty-five tops to have time to escape the planet. If we do this, the Covenant, Insurrection, Flood and the Forerunner Warships within this planet will all be destroyed and we'll be able to return home."
"Roger that! You heard the lady, spread out the forces and have six groups ready to be stationed down on each end! I'm already in front of the one at the North, and two of the Spartans will hop down with me to help me activate it! Forces nearby can help us eliminate immediate threats!" He shouted through the comms, jumping out of the troop transport along with two of the massive figures aboard with him. Reaching the ground, he stood up quickly and gave a brief glance behind him to look at the Phantom flying elsewhere and at the two green armored behemoths and the serials imprinted on their breastplates. On the two were the numbers '010' and '141', holding a Battle Rifle and a Sniper Rifle respectively. He frowned slightly, disappointed by the fact that the Spartan with the serial '052' was not amongst them.
He placed his fingers to his right ear, speaking through it, "Placed somewhere else, Jorge?"
"Sorry Forge, the Flood's giving hell to the marines at the South Gate, need a couple of heavy weapons specialists to suppress the mass for a while. Alice, Douglas and I are the best chance at keeping the corpses safe and unmoving in their graves. Tell you what, we'll have a drink or two back at the Spirit of Fire when we're all through with this, deal?"
"I'll hold you to that, big man, in the meantime, I'll stick to the North Gate with your giant pals. Radio me when you've activated it so we can do our part and help the others at the other gates!"
"Sure thing, Forge." He took his fingers from his ear and unholstered his shotgun, turning to face the two Super Soldiers temporarily under his command. He remembered from the times he'd tried to talk to them that they were both women under the armor, prompting him to smirk, "Well ladies, I doubt I need to tell you what to do, so let's move to the gate and rally the forces in the area while we're at it."
"Sir." The two answered, giving curt nods at his orders. He then went on to sprint to his objective, only about a hundred meters away, with the two Spartans behind him hardly jogging to match his pace. A few Covies here and there, mostly Sangheili as preferred by the late prejudicial Arbiter, and the path was clear. He got to the grey pyramid gate, placing his hand against the five or six fingered holograph that formed before him. It lit up, going from a light blue cobalt to a bright white, awaiting its counterpart to deactivate to shut itself down.
Satisfied with his easily done task, he shouted through the comms, "Northern Gate clear! Forces clear for repositioning as soon as the South Gate is through!"
Within seconds of his answer, he watched as an extraordinarily large, triangular portion of the kilometers-long shield become inactive and the holograph die down. "Southern Gate is down, all forces in the area are available to any other marines that are in a rough spot at their gates."
"This is Zealot Ro-Fhar, acting superior of the armed forces at the North Eastern Gate requesting reinforcements. Covenant Wraiths are overwhelming our strength and all the Humans under my command have perished. All those available that have the quickest vehicles and aircrafts, I need all those that I can get effective immediately."
The Sergeant groaned slightly at the setback, still having twenty-three minutes until evac time. Looking at the fifty troops nearby, he motioned to the Spartans to follow him as he got closer to a fully manned Warthog. Reaching the driver, he immediately put his hand on the man's shoulder. "Son, we're going to need the car."
The marine immediately nodded and hopped out of it along with the copilot and the turret gunman. In a second, he was already taking the wheel and the Spartans '010' and '141' took the turret and passenger positions respectively. He shouted to the aircrafts around, "All Hornets, Warthogs and anything else that can get through quickly follow me!"
With that, he started the Warthog at a pace suited for the Super Soldiers manning the rest of the vehicle with him. Behind him, he heard the stampede that followed him through the unruly trek. Hornets and Banshees stormed through the air, speeding past him at a slightly faster speed. Looking to his right, he looked at the triangular hole far more in depth, almost gawking at its size until a trendily snapped his attention back to the unpaved road. All around him, tentacles originating from the ground attempted to knock over his Warthog, successfully doing so to several others under his command. Spartan 010, knowing they wouldn't leave the planet quickly enough if they stopped to kill everything in their path, she took several pragmatic shots with the Gauss Turret at the tentacles that got too close for comfort.
Arriving to the gate's position with half the ground forces lost, the Sergeant was at the very least relieved that the air forces were giving over a dozen Wraiths a tough time. Looking at the Kig-Yar Zealot in command, along with dozens of other ground troops, he drove to her position, allowing the Spartans out of the car as well. Several Human corpses lay near the area, holding true her statement as evidence of what she'd said. He jogged closer to her, shouting, "Ma'am, we got here as soon as we could! Hopefully they'll be enough to buy time to activate the gate!"
"That's the problem, Sergeant. Two of the Wraiths stationed themselves in front of the console, and we're having a hard time avoiding the shots of all the others as it is. The South West Gate has already radioed that they've activated it, and the other two can't do anything until we do our part."
He turned back, looking at the Spartans behind him who'd likely already planned the next course of action. "We'll take care of it, ma'am."
He looked from the cover that the destroyed Scorpion tank had provided at the two heavy vehicles of mauve, each one on one of the sides of the console. "Alright, the two of you take the one on the left. Given the fact that the Covie forces are coming from the left side, chances are you'll be under heavier fire. The good thing is that the swarm of Hornets are attracting most of the Wraiths, so I'm pretty sure you'll be fine. Besides, you're Spartans. I doubt that you're the type of soldiers that will get killed by a stray shot."
"Sir, that means you'll be taking on the one on the right alone." One of the two stated in a baritone voice. He simply smiled, "Of course, I don't want you hogging up all the fun for yourselves."
Before they could say anything more, he made a run for it. In his sprint, he found that the Wraiths had fired both their shots at him. His mind racing to an additional prototype Anders had added to his experimental shields other than their improved strength. He activated what he had been led to understand was a Hardlight Shield, deflecting the blasts that hit it. They hit the ground in front of him, causing him to fall back. His shields were almost depleted from the strength of the hit.
He got up again to find that the two Spartans were already on the left Wraith, additionally distracting the one on the right. He took at a good luck at the back of the right Covenant tank, making himself sprint as his shields took their times recuperating. Hopping onto the back, he grabbed the shotgun with one hand and forced it through the venting hole, pumping a single good shot into it. Immediately it burst through into flames, prompting the Sergeant to roll back as the entire tank exploded with its engines overloading.
Up again, he found the left tank in a state exact to his, if not worse and the two Super Soldiers standing by. Well, one had a defensive pose while the other was already deactivating the gate, prompting two more portions of the shields to deactivate. Through the radios, he heard the Supreme Commander's voice, "I see that the gate is almost down. I am already warming my vessel's engines and telling the rest of the fleet to do so. The Captain Cutter is already sending several Pelicans, Phantoms and other transport vehicles to pick up the ground troops. Hurry and finish, for time is running short."
"Sir, this is Spartan-092, the final parts of the gate's shields have been taken down. It's done."
"Excellent news, Spartan. Transport is en route and should be there within minutes. Get on immediately, we've only thirteen minutes before the rocket starts, and its trajectory should last ten minutes at the most." Forge looked at the skies to find dozens and dozens, maybe even a hundred and a half of Pelicans and Phantoms heading for their positions. Finally, one of the green, metallic buzzards stopped in front of him and the Spartans, prompting the Sergeant to roar, "C'MON, GET ON EVERYONE! MOVE IT OR LOSE IT!"
He ran for the open backdoor, the Spartans still reaching long it before he was halfway there. Getting on and looking back to find several marines taking spots on it and strapping themselves in, the Spartans at the seat closest to the pilot's pit, he went there, happy to find that the copilot's spot had been empty. Before he sat down, he put his hand on the pilot's chair, an ODST who'd chosen to stay silent throughout the whole ride. Chuckling a bit, he put his fingers to his ear and joked, "Well Jorge, I've just come out of a fight with a Wraith and I'm pretty damn tired. Sounds like you ought to start finding the drinks."
All he was greeted was by much static, a bit of the large man's voice and several growls from around him. "Jorge?! Jorge! Talk to me!"
By now, the two Spartans had gotten up from their seats and were next to him, tuning in on the conversation tensely as they heard the results from the radio. Finally, a voice came through, "Ther… lot… forms… and we're overrun. I'm sorry Forge, you're going to have my drink for me. While all of these bastards were concentrated on us, there was more room for everyone else to get to the transports with part of the pressure the Flood was giving taken off of them. Jorge, out."
"Jorge! JORGE! Damn it all!" The Sergeant bellow, prompting all to turn to him. He gave a look at the pilot and cried, "We have to go back!"
"Sorry, orders are clear. We need to get the hell out of dodge before this whole damn planet burns."
"Weren't you listening?! There're Spartans down there, three of them, all trapped down there with no other transport to get them through!"
"They chose to take one for the team and that's that. We're getting out of here just as the Supreme Commander ordered.
"I don't think we're very clear on this subject. Get. To the Spartans. Now."
"I'm a Lieutenant, so I don't take orders from you. Besides, the hell do a couple of those oversized freaks matter? We've got enough of them already. So I'm ordering you to stand down and sit the fuck back down."
Forge reeled his head back. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?! You rat bastard!"
"Alright, next insult and I give you my word I'll-" He was cut off with the single haymaker the Sergeant delivered to the right half of his face. Immediately knocked from his place, Forge took his seat as he barked to the Spartans, "One-four-one! Get on the copilot seat and make sure any bogies in the way spend their last seconds of their lives looking straight at our missiles! Cero-one-cero, restrain the Lieutenant! He starts bitching again, do me a favor and knock him out again!"
He heard not a sound from either of the two, but he felt a heavy thump behind him on the seat before his and he watched as two green armored arms grabbed the unconscious ODST like a rag doll, getting him out of the way. He hadn't had too many flight lessons, but he'd been taught his way around the basics of most vehicles. The word 'shit' crossed his mind when forms of biomass launched at the Pelican, most scraping it just barely. Knowing that he was almost at the giant's location, he made for a steep dive-bomb, the Spartan behind him guiding the rockets into the flood masses leaping at him. Seeing the three green figures barely holding off the overpowering parasite, he bellowed, "CERO-ONE-CERO, MAN THE TURRET AND COVER THE SPARTANS! TIMER'S DOWN TO FIVE MINUTES BEFORE THE ROCKET STARTS AND THEY'RE ABOUT TO LEAVE THIS SHITHOLE OF A PLANET WITHOUT US! MOVE IT!"
The Spartan ran, spaying hundreds of bullets at the horde of undead continuously overlapping their fallen and trying to get to the other Super Soldiers. The three heavy weapons specialists looked in shock at the open Pelican and wasted no time on getting on it. Jorge stayed beside the turret-manning giant unleashing his own barrage of bullets originating from his minigun. In half a second, the door was shot, and the Pelican shot out to the sky.
At that, Jorge dropped his weapon, it resonating throughout the entire vehicle as he stomped to the Pelican's head. Stepping over a downed shock troop, he looked at the pilot working the controls and shouted, "Forge, are you out of your mind?!"
"Not NOW, Jorge! I'm flying this Pelican into the Spirit of Fire even if I have to crash this goddamned plane into it!" He roared right back, taking Jorge by surprise. The Sergeant turned his head ninety degrees to at least look at the Spartan partly, "Contact Captain Cutter! Tell him that one last Pelican is on its way with five Spartans aboard and a team of marines! I know he won't stop now, hell, I'm sure he can't, but he can at least open one of the docks to let us through!"
Jorge said nothing and instead returned to the more occupied part of the Pelican, where his other Spartan brethren were. Forge heard him radio Cutter, but hardly paid any attention to it when looking at the skies in front of him. Where the SA fleet was concentrated in a thick pile, the ones at the front facing the star already departing, many Covenant ships were scattered around like a plague. Maneuvering the Pelican to have as much distance between them as possible, he found the Spirit of Fire moving a bit slower than the rest, positioning itself with the warships at the fleet's end. The foremost ships were already catapulting towards the star when he finally found himself close enough to the armada to identify his home ship. Unfortunately, he hadn't looked out quickly enough for the Corvette.
It was over nearly as quickly as it had started. A lone, stray Covenant Corvette had come around close enough to him to fire several of its munitions, his senses kicking just quickly enough to dodge the shots. One shot made it through to the engines, however, prompting smoke to come from it. Sweat ran down his face when he saw the ship warming up for another attack, but it was partly relieved when a MAC round tore through it. He was already trying to think up of good ways to thank Cutter for that, but his soldier's mind kicked in and with several flashing lights at the controls, he already knew there were several things wrong with the Pelican now. Some of the others warned him about them, some even screamed at him, but he heard none of it as he zoned out to fly the collapsing troop transport to the last of its ability.
He came closer and closer to the belly of the ship, his heart pounding harder and his ears hearing only a very light pitch lingering from the engines' combustion. He was either ignoring everything but his objective, or everyone and everything decided to keep quiet for the next minute. Then, like the light at the end of the tunnel, he saw one of its ports open to greet it just as its thrusters already conjuring propelling pillars of fire. Catching up and letting a thankful cry of joy when he made it through, he paled again when he could hear everything and realized that the Pelican was far too damaged to stop.
Now the sweat went past his brow, knowing that there was no stopping the ship, mind in denial at the idea of dying inside of the ship after a system failure. He immediately went for the ground at a forty-five degree angle to make the crash lighter than it had to be, roaring, "EVERYONE, HANG ON!"
His mind paralyzed as the ship finally crashed, not being able to process anything other than basic instinct from that moment on. The ship only partly lit up in flames, sliding across the floor and closing in on the front wall in front of them. Nothing he could, do he watched in horror for a split second as pulverized glass flew at him, past him from the crash against the wall. The next split second his head was going at great speeds with the momentum gathered towards the ship's controls, crashing against it. He laid in an awkward position with his entire body leaning forwards, his bleeding face and cracked skull laying on the metallic, destroyed console.
13:51 – February 16th, 2533 – The Spirit of Fire Medical Wing
Forge opened his eyes with much efforts, annoyed by the intensity of the bright, white lights that seemed to flash directly at him. After having have gone through similar scenarios with flashbang practice tests and other times he'd been sent to the hospital, he simply shut his eyes and tried to organize his thoughts, starting with the last thing he'd seen. He remembered bits and pieces of the Pelican crash, the massive surge of adrenaline having similar effects on his memories than the ones produced by a night with one too many shots. He faintly heard two voices, one young and female with a very astute feel to it and another old and male voice that spoke with stern authority. He immediately knew who the two were.
"…geant? Sergeant! Sergeant John Forge is waking up!" Anders announced quickly, somewhat worriedly to the nurses. One got close, studied him over quite quickly before getting a syringe out. He caught her arm before it could reach anywhere near him, but made sure to also be as gentle as he could possibly be. A task easier now that he was stripped of his armor. He managed to smile despite his entire face aching in pain from the small act. "Don't worry, miss. I'm sure I've gotten enough sleep as it is."
Now his senses regained, he saw her delicate face scrunch up in worry and her mouth open, ready to debate when a single hand on her shoulder stopped her from even starting. Captain Cutter and Professor Anders both stood near him, giving nods to the nurses that they could attend to others. The older man started, "You made a hell of a risk, Sergeant."
"Yes, Sir, I did. But, in my defense, Spartans are too valuable just to lose or leave behind. We need soldiers, nor martyrs. If they made it, then the risk was worth it for me." He replied, being more formal with his superior but still maintaining his smile. After all, the Captain had been one of the few to put up with his rowdy behavior. Cutter, looking at the question in his eyes, answered, "A hell of a lot happened, and the team of marines and the ODST needed serious medical attention like you, but the Spartans made it."
"Then it was worth it." He murmured putting his head back on the pillow with a more relaxed smile on his face. Before Cutter could say it, the Sergeant said, "I know I'm going to be put on trial for the whole 'knocking out the obnoxious prick' thing, Captain. Just tell me the time and I'll report to your bridge."
"If you can do it later tonight, then the earlier, the better. Sergeant, though what you did was nothing short of reckless in my book, I give you my word that you'll have my support when the time comes. Maybe you stepped over the line two days ago, no matter how successful the plan was, but for a year and a half, you've been a beacon of hope for the marines on the ground, and I'll be damned if I ignore or forget that." He stated, serious complexion on his face. Forge smiled at the superior gratefully, "Thank you, Sir. It's been a pleasure."
Before he left, the Spirit of Fire's Captain extended his hand towards the man in the bed, who took it in a firm shake. With that, the older man turned on his heels and lightly marched out of the room, leaving Anders and Forge alone. The former shook her head and closed her eyes stressfully. "You're an idiot, you know that?"
"Yeah, I do. Pretty damn proud of it too." He jabbed. The Professor took a look at him and rolled her eyes before they both fell into a staring contest. Neither said anything for a minute, and then the two started laughing, each second becoming progressively louder until Forge clutched his wounded stomach from the ache it gave.
"Well, Professor, mind telling me what the hell happened two days ago." He inquired quite curiously. She sat on the bed, looking up and letting out an exasperated sigh. "Where do I begin? Well, other than your crash, which is a lot on its own, there was everything that involved escaping the planet. Of course, we're about to go through with a plan that may just be a one-way ticket to our deaths and you're sleeping while we're at it."
"Ah, cut me some slack, Anders. I was saving those titanic bastards for a pretty good reason, so I'd say I earned that 'sleep'." He shot back good-naturedly. She chuckled at his remark and continued, "Well, the 'slingshot theory' worked and we all got out of the opened gate in one piece. Seeing that planet explode made me think of how proud you would have been to watch how you've finally managed to explode an entire world."
"What can I say? Not even the scrapbooks could have captured the glory of such a moment." She rolled her eyes again prompting both to chuckle more as he continued, "Damn shame I missed it."
At that, she stayed silent and failed to hold back a smirk. Forge's widened as he prompted, "What did you do, Anders?"
"Well, with all of the Flood, the Forerunner Warships and countless other things in there, this mission is bound to be classified. However, evidence is required to ensure SA HIGHCOM that the situation was taken care of, so I figured saving a few of the cameras' copies of the moment would give them all the insurance they would need." Forge showed his two rows of white teeth at what she head, laughing loud and heartily. He knew that all of her excuses were technically valid, but were complete and utter bullshit just to save him a copy. "I'm glad my influence on you has grown."
"I'll have you know, Sergeant Forge, that I did this entirely on my own accord."
"Exactly." They both laughed again, before they both finally stopped and Forge's smile took on a rare, serene level. "I'm not sure if the reports were clear, but a couple of Wraiths shot at me. I'd be dead if it weren't for your prototypes of extreme endurance and that Forerunner 'Hardlight'. You know that, right?"
She looked at him in a small amount of astonishment, not having expected his sudden serious tone. She placed a stray strand of hair in front of her eye behind her ear before she looked at the floor. "After my escape, the Flood spores would have infected me if you weren't there. It's only logical that I pay you back. Besides, the experimental schematics could b-"
"Ellen." All he said was that one word and she stopped in the middle of her oral report to look at him again. Still wearing the same, serene smile, his face said everything he had to say, with his hand grabbing her forearm to prove the sentiment of gratitude. "It was nothing, really, I was just-"
He stopped her midway, grabbing her nape and taking her lips in his. It wasn't very long, and there was hardly any tongue, mainly because of Forge's injuries, and within seconds she let her go. Her cheeks had a small taint of pink in them, the largest amount of emotion being in her wide, astonished eyes. She couldn't help but smile again, saying, "You took a big risk, John."
"Worth it."
"You really are reckless."
"Not as much as you think if I keep winning my gambles."
"Is that right?"
"Yeah. The fact alone that you didn't break my skull again is a win for me." The two laughed loud and hard again, finally feeling some relief from what had been the longest mission in their lives, managing to forget about the war if only for a brief period. She got up from the bed, giving an annoyed sigh. "Well, I have to get back to my office and write an unnerving amount of reports. I'd say I'd be worried for your hearing, but I wouldn't be surprised if I just find you walking up and about by tomorrow."
"Yeah, my bet's been going on the fact that they're all too damn tired to put me in the brig, and my rank is way too low to demote. Chances are, they're going to give me a school-styled scolding and send me to my room without supper. Knowing how my luck at gambling's been going recently, I'm not really worried." She laughed and stood up, grabbing his hand a final time before heading to the door. Before she could go through, the doors opened for a giant in olive-green armor, giving her a scare that brought the Sergeant to chuckle. She stepped aside, giving way for him to pass as the helmeted warrior gave her a curt, respectful nod and made his way over to the Sergeant. With Anders gone and Forge alone, Jorge took off his helmet.
"You're insane, Forge." He laughed. Forge laughed too, "And you're late, Jorge. There's been like half a dozen ways Anders and Cutter said it before you arrived, so tell me something that I don't know."
The large man simply smirked, opening a strange suitcase he'd had with him for no apparent reason. Inside was a bottle of rum and another of cupam, the large man taking the latter and the Sergeant taking the former. Opening it without much effort, they both toasted silently to a year and a half of working together, the time in which they'd formed their bonds, and took a good chug. Forge valued the drink after not having anything to drink in days, and then looked up at the giant smiling at him. "What is it?"
"Nothing, just that it's a damn shame that you're a marine."
"Why, don't want to admit that I saved your sorry ass."
"Heh, no, it's not that."
"Then what is it?"
"You would have been a hell of a Spartan." Forge took the drink from his mouth to ponder the giant's words. Jorge, in turn, left him after putting a strong hand on his shoulder. About to leave, he stopped at Forge's request, "Hey Jorge, could you do me a favor?"
"Yeah, what do you need?"
"Could you call the Supreme Commander for me? Tell him I have a hearing tonight."
Author's Notes: Well, there you have it. Forge being awesome, an insight on what the hell had happened in the Shield World (yes, Armageddon is the Shield World's name), Jorge being awesome, and the Arbiter's dead. Yeah, I think this has been a good chapter to close the year with, and I once again wish you all a merry Christmas/happy holidays and a Happy New Year!
The Almighty Afroduck,
All Hail