Chapter XIV

After his rigorous battle with Tex who seemed to have risen from the dead, the Master Chief spent several days recovering from grievous wounds he sustained. Immediately following his recovery, Red Squad packed up for their journey to the last recorded sighting of the two remaining soldiers from Blue Base at Blood Gulch . . .

"So, this teleporter will take us directly to the construction site?" Master Chief asked the Red Prophet.

"I am positive. Our teleportation technology is quite advanced. You experienced it firsthand, did you not?"

"Well, yeah, but that was from one side of this valley to the other. We're talking about traveling into another hemisphere."

"A few hundred feet, a few hundred miles, it makes no difference. Our technology is inspired by the ever-guiding light of the Red Flag. It has not failed us, and it most certainly will not fail you, Reclaimer."

At the mentioning of that last word, the Chief was presented memories of a floating, blue sphere. He didn't know why, but he instantly didn't like it. The flashes were similar to the events that occurred when he saw Lock-jaw for the first time and when he saw Lopez's plasma rifle. He had since had many of these visions and was quite used to them popping up at the strangest of encounters with the senses.

The smell of the burning Blue Zealots had shown him pictures of flipped warthog vehicles and charred bodies of marines. The sight of a plasma based light reconnaissance vehicle, dubbed the 'ghost' had shown him images of Elites attacking him and fellow marines on said vehicles. The sound of the Red Prophet's religious ramblings made him see images of strange, ornate aliens seated in hovering chairs.

These visions no longer assaulted his mind violently, but in all of them, the presence of something sinister always lurked in the recesses of his mind. He always had to brush it aside to focus on the matters at hand.

"I'll take your word for it. How long will it take to reach the construction site?"

"Time is not an element in teleportation. You are transported instantaneously through the voids of time and space to your destination. The only advice I can give you is to be prepared for anything."

"I always am. Ready everyone? Here we go."

The Master Chief boldly stepped into the swirling green vortex and vanished. The remaining soldiers of Red Squad followed until all of them were gone. One of the Zealots turned to address his leader.

"Sir, how long do you think it will take for them to find O'Malley?"

"I don't know, but I will pray for him."

"I too will pray for the Master Chief."

"No, not the Reclaimer, for O'Malley."

"What? Why would you pray for our enemy?"

"I only pray that his death is quick and painless." The Prophet lowered his head. "However, I fear that my prayer may not be answered. This matter falls out of the jurisdiction of even the Holy Flag . . ."

"Wyoming!" O'Malley's voice blared through the man's radio and rattled his eardrums. After shaking off the buzzing sound in his ears, Wyoming responded.

"What is it, ol' chap?"

"Our second attempt to aquire that blasted super laser has failed."

"Shall I go fetch the mission recording?"

"No, my agent within the Red Zealots has informed me that the body was burned, along with the armor. That means the mission recording was lost."

Wyoming had to admit, despite his severe ego issues and constant failed attempts at creating doomsday devices, O'Malley was an impressive presence. He had managed to turn a fanatical flag-worshiping moron into a loyal spy; not a very easy task.

"I will scout ahead to the next location. It is a shame that our third edition will not be able to reivew her predecessor's battle. She will do fine, nonetheless."

"Hmm. Indeed. I will prepare Tex for the . . . procedure." O'Malley began with his maniacal laugh, which always laster much longer than necessary.

Wyoming couldn't help but crack a smile. He knew what O'Malley meant by 'procedure' and knew that this DNA extraction would be extremely painful. And it should be, because even a man of Wyoming's class and sophistication would accept such brutal treatment if two copies of himself had failed to accomplish a simple task like stealing a flag, or data relating to it's destructive properties . . .

Master Chief only felt it for a millisecond, but the feeling washed over him like an electrical surge. His molecules were instantly transported to the teleporter the Red Zealots had erected at the site named 'Headlong' by Red Command. The Chief stepped away from the teleporter as the rest of his troops came through. He checked to make sure they were all there. After a successful head count, the Chief looked around. Not only was the place a construction site, it looked abandoned, but looks can be decieving, as he would later find out.

"We are going to be here for at least three days. We need a base of operations where we can pitch camp. Grif, scout the area and check for any signs of enemy activity. Simmons, go with him."

The Chief moved into a room. There were no doors, which would make moving about easier. The Chief surveyed the immediate area. The room he was standing in was spacious. A hallway connected it with another room. The room had three large crates that were empty. There was large window which dropped down several feet to a platform below. There were two sets of guard rails on either end of the hallway in the room with the boxes, and both of them overlooked a staircase. The Master Chief decided that both rooms would do nicely. Lopez helped the Chief reorganize the empty crates so that they could be used to temporarily set up scientific equipment for more research on the Flag and its healing properties. Everyone had set up camp when Grif contacted the Chief over the radio.

"Uh, Chief? I think we have a serious situation here. You better come take a look."

"I'm on my way, stay put."

The Chief left the room in a hurry, searching for Grif and Simmons. He walked past the teleporter and saw that Grif and Simmons were on a walkway on the outside of another building. The Chief also took notice of what appeared to be a war going on. He saw that a makeshift bridge had been established and the Chief crossed it to join with his scouts. At this point, none of them needed any visual enhancement to see what was going on.

There were, apparently, two sides to the conflict; soldiers sporting brown armor with various colored patches painted at random locations on their armor were fighting a much larger Blue force. The brown-clad soldiers had an M808B Main Battle Tank and several rocket launchers. The Blue forces had three tanks and were armed to the teeth with the newest Blue Army technology. Fortunately for the brown-clad soldiers, their aim was terrible. Despite their superior aim and battle tactics, the brown armored soldiers were fighting a battle that they simply could not win. Alone. The Chief opened his radio to the rest of Red Squad.

"Everyone, get your weapons ready. We've been invited to a party, and it would be so very impolite to decline. Doc, get your medical gear. Saddle up, men, we're going in."

To Be Continued