Chapter 19
The sun rose over the ravaged world of Meridian. On the planet's surface, the few remaining humans worked on their survival plan.
Spartan Locke examined the forces arrayed before him. They were considerably less than those he had had several hours before. And that had already been a shit hand.
There were 3 Spartan IV super-soldiers. 4, if he included himself. Locke himself had held up reasonably well. The most he had to worry about was the mounting exhaustion. The rest were not so fortunate. 1 of the 3 was almost completely incapacitated. Vale wouldn't be much good other than as a stationary gun on whatever vehicles they managed to scrounge up. This was assuming she even managed to stay conscious, a definite 'if' given her heavy injuries. Another of the 3, Tanaka, was not as heavily injured, but was starting to feel what injuries she did have. He'd have to use her economically. The last of them, Buck, was the best of all of them as he had managed to avoid much of the fighting due to his stealth expertise. Said expertise was diminished by the breaking down and subsequent non-functionality of his stealth tech; not that a stealth expert would be particularly useful in the rushing convoy Locke had planned. He had seen the obliterated starport during their Pelican's approach to the city. They would have to leave via ground vehicles.
This was all on top of their dwindling ammunition. Almost none of the depleted uranium rounds remained. They'd have to use the considerably less effective standard rounds for the majority of any fighting.
The Security Force was almost completely wiped out. All that remained were Sgt. Singh and his Scorpion tank. Unfortunately, said tank's machine gun had failed. Its barrel had been warped by overheating, and any spare parts had been left behind in the officer's Security Station...which Singh and his men had set to blow in order to take out as many of the Soldiers as they could. Luckily, the main gun was still working, although even that might fail if it overheated again. None of the Officer infantry remained; if they wanted armed backup, they would have to conscript civilians. Fantastic.
At least most of the Soldiers were wiped out by the turrets, Locke thought optimisticly. He was unable to convince the cynical part of him that had been nurtured by years of service to ONI.
The plan was simple. They would evacuate all of the surviving humans on Meridian to the colony's space elevator. Once there, they would take the carriage to the cargo freighters still docked in the elevator's orbital end. The ships would not have enough air or provisions to get them to the nearest inhabited system, but they would at least get the civilians out of the line of fire until they could be recovered by the Infinity. Hopefully, any surviving Soldier ships would not bother to pursue the ad hoc lifeboats.
They weren't even out of the planning phase before they ran into their first hurdle.
"Shit," Tanaka said, eloquently giving voice to the entire group's reaction. The Security Vehicles that Singh's men had arrived in were almost completely destroyed. The Soldiers' often poor aim, while beneficial for Waterloo's defenders, tended to cause quite a bit of collateral damage.
"We probably wouldn't have been able to get them through the streets anyway," Buck said, gesturing to the ravaged network of roads. It looked like they would be making their escape on foot. The day just kept getting better and better.
Locke turned to Sgt. Singh. "Are there any other vehicles that might have survived the battle?"
Singh thought for a moment. His eyes widened as a thought seemed to occur to him. "There's a bunch of survey vehicles parked just inside the exterior gate. They might have made it. Doubt we could fit everyone on 'em, but there's some trailers we could hook onto 'em," he explained.
Locke thought back to Osiris' entry into the city several hours prior. It was possible that he simply hadn't noticed the vehicles on their way in; he had been rather occupied with other matters at the time. He did remember that there hadn't been a rear guard to secure the only ground level entrance to the city. Perhaps the Soldiers had ignored the hardware in their rush to get to the slaughter. It would fit their lack of discipline and professionalism. Locke accessed the recordings in his MJOLNIR armor's databanks. Reviewing the visual feed of their entrance, he saw that there were indeed several untouched vehicles right next to the destroyed gate. Things were looking up.
"We need to get the people ready to move," Locke said the the group. "Sergeant, I need you to talk to the civilians. Get them organized for an evacuation. Find out what they need and convince them to leave what they don't. Understood?"
"Got it," Singh replied.
"Spartan Tanaka," Locke continued, "I need you to round up some conscripts. Gather what weapons are left and arm whoever looks like they're still sane enough to be of use."
"On it, boss," Tanaka replied, sounding about as enthusiastic as Locke felt. Having a bunch of armed, untrained amateurs running around a battlefield was not exactly something any professional soldier would be happy about. Still, they were out of options.
"Buck, keep an eye on Vale. Update me if her condition worsens," Locke concluded.
Vale frowned weakly. "I'm good to go, sir. I may not be up for much, but I don't need babysitting."
Locke immediately shot her down. "I appreciate the bravado, Spartan, but even you can only take so much. You need to pace yourself if you're going to be of use to anyone." Vale still looked unhappy about the situation, but she nodded in submission.
The group dispersed to attend to their duties. A thought forced its way into Locke's mind.
"Sergeant, wait up. I'll come with you."
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Jameson Locke was about to do something very stupid.
During his training for service under the Office of Naval Intelligence Locke had been instructed in the need to avoid attachment. He couldn't afford to humanize those who would be directly affected by his actions. Locke believed in what he did. He believed that doing horrible things was often necessary for the greater good.
But he was still human.
He still had some vestiges of a conscience buried somewhere within him. If he allowed himself to develop a picture in his head for everyone who had ever suffered due to his intervention, he would burn out in a matter of weeks. Thus, observing first hand the people who had suffered due to his following orders was a definite no-no. He should be avoiding as much direct contact with them as possible.
Yet, here he was, following Sgt. Singh into Waterloo to see what remained of the civilian population of Meridian.
It was as ugly a sight as he imagined. Dirty, desperate people were huddled together throughout the former dining area. He could see desperation, fear, and exhaustion waging their own inner war within the eyes of every man and woman present. A lot of them were wounded. The most severely injured were being tended to by the medic Sgt. Singh had brought with him. Apparently, none of the actual doctors had survived the Soldiers' attack. He was doing the best he could, but Locke could tell that the lack of a true medical professional was hurting bad.
Why the hell did I come in here? Locke asked himself. He didn't have an answer for that any more than he had one for why he was currently walking toward the dead bodies piled against one of the walls. The 2 Soldiers that had penetrated the building had done quite a bit of damage before Tanaka managed to eliminate them. There hadn't been any body bags, or even sheets to cover the corpses, so they were all just left there to rot in full view of everyone. That must have been detrimental to morale.
There was a strange bit of debris lying next to the pile. Driven by an inexplicable curiosity, he walked over and picked it up. It was humanoid. Probably an action figure. It had been badly burned. Half of its surface was charred and partially melted. Turning it over in his hand, Locke couldn't help but think it seemed familiar. Where could he have seen it before...
Oh, God...no...
Locke looked at the pile. He saw the body the figure had been lying next to. It was far too small to be an adult. Locke knelt down and gently pulled back the coat that had been draped over its torso.
Aiko...
Abruptly, he placed the coat back over the corpse, stood up, and walked away. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he acting so...so...unprofessionally? He had seen thousands of civilians die over the course of the Human-Covenant War, both on screens and in person. This wasn't the first time that people had died due to his actions, either. Why did this feel so different?
Locke walked swiftly back out of the building. He put the ruined action figure in one of his equipment pouches without realizing it.
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Holly Tanaka was doing as well as Locke had hoped. The able-bodied and well-of-mind colonists followed her instructions adequately. They held the Assault Rifles that had belonged to the deceased Security Officers as she instructed. They practiced some basic tactics. They didn't even put up much of a fight at being drafted. He noticed one colonist in particular stand up straighter when she indicated approval at his performance.
It seemed having an Outer Colony background helped in getting them to trust her. That, or there was some kind of subconscious response to her superhero garb. Maybe whatever cultural and psychological aspects that the character represented was being appealed to by the Spartan IV. Whatever the case, things were going relatively well.
Buck returned from his scouting run. He shook his head at Locke. He had been unable to locate any other survivors. The seemingly coordinated final attack on Waterloo had probably been the result of the disparate Soldier forces running out of other humans to kill. Locke swore silently.
The exodus began. Buck scouted ahead to find alternate routes when their way was blocked by rubble. The map stored within the Spartans' armor was useless. Even those who had lived there could barely recognize anything as they moved out. No one talked during the journey. The survivors either had a somber mood or simply hadn't yet processed that their home was gone. Even if the UEG held the planet, the Station would have to be rebuilt from scratch. Assuming the Senate approved of rebuilding, of course. They might just decide to write off the whole enterprise. Meridian would remain forever dead, regardless of the colonists' labors.
They picked their way around mounds of rubble, some having to carry the more heavily injured. The numerous improvised stretchers slowed down their progress even more. Fortunately, there were no Soldier attacks during the journey to the gate. If any of their enemy had survived, it seemed they were still wary of the Station's now inert defenses.
The vehicles were right where they had been the night before. Locke ordered the more mechanically inclined colonists to assist him in inspecting and preparing the vehicles. He had no interest in taking an unnecessary risks with this already crazy idea. It seemed they were all in full working order. Locke was encouraged by the size and durability of their tires. They should be able to traverse rough terrain fairly easily in these. Given the earthquakes, they would probably be encountering some obstacles.
Locke ordered the colonists to fill the vehicles' tanks with their hydrogen fuel. They would be using 3 vehicles, each of which would pull a trailer behind it. The relatively able-bodied civilians would climb into the 2 trailers shaped like enormous bins; the high sides would protect them from debris, if nothing else. Those too infirm to climb up would be placed on the final trailer, which was a flat-bed shape with large, ultra-strong straps to hold down equipment. The straps would be used for improvised seat-belts.
Hopefully, if 1 didn't make it, the others would be able to continue on to safety. Locke tried not to think about how empty the trailers looked—how few people had survived.
The conscripted colonists would be divided equally amongst the 3 vehicles. They would be perched on the edges of the occupied trailers. Locke and Buck used cutting torches to weld a few straps and improvised hand-holds for them. Vale insisted on being perched on the rear vehicle. According to her, she could still fight, and she wasn't going to sit this out. Locke eventually acquiesced out of convenience.
Evelyn Collins sat on the edge of 1 bin, helping her fellow colonists climb in. She had initially volunteered for combat duty but Locke had shot her down. She was obviously someone that the civilians trusted. He needed her keeping them calm and following instructions, not manning a rifle.
"C'mon, Miller, let's get ya up," Collins said, offering a hand to a particularly injured man. Locke's eyes were drawn to him as he noticed that his wounds were partially healed over. He must have been injured sometime before the attack began. Maybe in the riots? However he had been injured, that man wasn't going to be any use in the fighting. He was climbing gingerly, as if moving at all was causing him pain, and he had a bandage over one eye.
The vehicles started and pulled into a single line. Sgt. Singh brought his Scorpion to the front. It had been difficult to get the tank through the shattered city, but the thing's maneuverability had lived up to its model. It's machine gun was still offline, so Tanaka, perched with Locke on the vehicle directly behind the Scorpion, would have to provide cover from any nearby attackers. There was inadequate room in the vehicles' cramped cockpits; the Spartans couldn't even fit inside them, so there they were, clinging to the roofs like birds. The flat-bed was placed in the center of the formation to shield its passengers as much as possible.
"Alright people," Locke shouted, "Let's move out!"
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"Comm check, repeat, comm check. Fireteam Osiris, respond," Locke said.
"Osiris One, solid copy," Tanaka replied.
"Osiris Two, solid copy," Vale responded. Her voice was slightly weak, but full of determination.
"Osiris Three, solid copy," Buck confirmed.
Excellent. It seemed the destruction of the Soldier forces in Meridian Station had eliminated whatever jamming gear had been disrupting communications. A major asset had been restored to them.
The convoy made its way to the orbital elevator. The dirty brown earth of the partially terraformed landscape had looked hideous upon Locke's arrival. Now it proved a nice contrast to the scorched and ruined city. Not that Locke was put at ease. The earthquake had transformed what had been a largely open plane to a maze of hills and cliff faces. Several times the convoy had to reverse direction after coming upon a dead end.
A few kilometers out, the ground started to level off. At about the half-way mark, there was only a few hills blocking sight of the base of the elevator. They even managed to find the mostly intact road leading between Meridian Station and their goal.
"Contact! Contact!"
The conscript's alert came moments before an explosion sounded a few dozen meters behind the rear vehicle. Emerging from the maze of broken earth were several Soldier APCs. Each had a number of Soldier infantry perched atop them. The infantry opened fire on the convoy.
"Petal to the metal, drivers! Get us to that elevator!" Locke ordered via the survey vehicles' dashboard radios. The convoy lurched forward at greater speed. The Spartans clung tighter to their perches atop the survey vehicles, the increased velocity producing a bumpier ride. Locke wished the Liang-Dortmund Company had sprung for better shock absorbers.
The APCs closed the distance. Several of the civilian conscripts opened fire. Locke suppressed a groan of frustration. They were still amateurs, and even trained Marines would have trouble hitting these targets. The Spartans would fair better thanks to their superior vision and reflexes.
The only thing that saved the human escapees was the fact that the APCs aim was as shitty as ever. They couldn't even land a single hit on the large transports.
Perhaps that was why the APCs were closing the distance. They ceased firing their main guns shortly before they pulled up alongside the rear vehicle. The Soldier infantry seemed to ready itself.
They were going to try boarding.
Assault Rifle fire continued to reach out. Some of them even landed, although Locke was inclined to credit those to Spartan Vale. Her armor's biomonitors indicated she was conscious and definitely engaged in high stress activity.
"Osiris Three, move to assist," Locke ordered.
"Copy, Osiris Lead," Buck confirmed. The Spartan jumped down from his perch atop the middle vehicle. He jumped onto the flatbed, careful to time his leaps to avoid any of the increasingly alarmed passengers. Upon reaching the end of his assigned vehicle, he leaped up with the assistance of his thrusters. He landed on the roof of the rear vehicle at the same time as the hostile boarders.
Buck surged forward on his thrusters, knocking one of the enemies off. Vale had taught him that trick during training. The Spartan used his boots' magnetic function to stay on the speeding vehicle after landing again.
Weapons fire raced back and forth. Several conscripts were hit. They fell off and were swiftly left behind by the racing vehicles. There would be no going back for them even if they had managed to survive the fall. There was no time.
The Soldiers' clumsy movements made them far less adept at keeping their balance atop the trailer's edges. Recognizing this, Buck and Vale focused their fire to knock the enemy off balance rather than inflict lethal injuries. The APCs did not stop for them, either in a rush like their prey or simply incapable of caring.
Enemy shots downed Vale's shield. One struck the side of her helmet, digging a solid line out of the ceramic-titanium armor plate. Vale groaned in pain. Her injuries, and the emergency aid her armor was supplying, made any more dramatic reactions impossible. Several of Vale's biomonitors ceased functioning. The ones that remained seemed to indicate that the shot had grazed her scalp. She was reduced to lying flat on her back. Despite this, she still managed to fire her Assault Rifle in the direction of the enemy, knocking several off of her transport. Her groan had turned into a growl as she refused to stop fighting.
Locke made a mental note to raise Olympia Vale up a notch on his 'don't fuck with' list.
A shot rang out just before one of the APCs exploded. Sgt. Singh had moved his Scorpion off road. Its turret was pointed directly backward as it continued to speed forward just ahead of the lead vehicle. The tank fired again. Another APC was destroyed.
The remaining enemy vehicles accelerated to engage their armored foe. The canons opened up again. The previous battle had taken its toll on the Scorpion's armor plating. Locke could see black smoke begin to rise out of its rear.
The APCs seemed not to realize that their shots were actually becoming effective. They rushed to pull up alongside the Scorpion. Locke and Tanaka opened fire. Their augmented reflexes allowed them to land a high percentage of their shots considering the difficulty in hitting one speeding vehicle from another. Several Soldier infantry exploded, knocking some of their compatriots off. Unfortunately, most of them managed to cling on as they approached the tank.
The Scorpion's main gun fired again. Another APC was destroyed. There were only 2 left now. It fired again. Only 1 remained. The Scorpion ran out of time. The APC pulled up alongside.
The Spartan IVs desperately focused fire on the Soldier Infantry. Locke loaded the half-empty magazine of depleted uranium rounds he had left over from the battle at Waterloo. They downed several enemies. Tanaka even managed to shoot one of them out of the air with her SAW. The ball of fire from its death rushed past as the vehicles continued forward.
A single Soldier managed to land on the Scorpion. It crawled toward the front of the armored vehicle. Toward the cockpit.
"Sergeant, slow down so we can get a shot!" Locke commed.
"C-copy!" Singh responded.
The Scorpion slowed. It came alongside the lead transport. Locke saw the Soldier slashing away at the cockpit's canopy with its hands. The weakened armor plating was being torn apart. The Soldier grasped the fractured plates and wrenched open a hole into the tank's interior. Singh was now exposed.
Thinking fast, Locke stowed his rifle on his back and used his thrusters to leap across to the armored vehicle. He landed on his hands and knees, using his boots' magnetic functions and his hands' grip to avoid bouncing off. His shield was instantly depleted from the force of the impact. The Scorpion's already damaged armor warped a bit further. The Soldier took notice of him. Locke drew his combat knife. The combatants moved to engage each other.
The melee was desperate. Neither was able to use any fancy tactics. Their attention was divided between trying to strike their enemy and trying not to lose their balance and fall off. Locke could feel his pulse pounding in his ears.
Locke tried to swipe at the Soldier's legs. The enemy jumped back, slashing as it went. The Soldier's talons sheared through the outermost layer of his armor plates. The ONI emblem on his chest was partially obliterated.
Unfortunately for the Soldier, its move had left it slightly off balance. Locke pressed his advantage. He leaped forward. He was facing the Scorpion's rear, meaning the strength of his blow was backed up by the weight of his decelerating armor. He slammed into his enemy with the power of a freight train. The Soldier's hard-light armor was instantly depleted. It bounced off the armor plating of the Scorpion and tumbled into the distance behind them. A bright flash signaled its death as it impacted the ground.
"Are you alright, sergeant?" Locke asked over the comms. The wind ripping past them made face-to-face communications impossible despite their close proximity.
"Ah...yeah, I'll be okay," Singh replied hesitantly. "Might need a new pair of pants, though."
The final APC started to peel off. Locke guessed it intended to go back to using its main gun.
"Mind taking care of our last uninvited guest?" Locke asked.
"My pleasure," Singh replied with relish.
As soon as the APC was within its effective range, the Scorpion opened fire. The enemy vehicle disappeared in a blast of flames. Locke grinned. The field was clear. They were off to the elevator.
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"We've got a bridge coming up," the pilot of the lead vehicle commed. Locke turned forward. Indeed, there was a relatively short bridge spanning a chasm in their way. It looked like one of the portable bridge laying systems that the UNSC often deployed to allow its land vehicles to cross obstructions. As they got closer, he realized that it was simply a very basic, cheap looking bit of infrastructure. How many corners did Liang-Dortmund cut on this shithole of a colony?
Looking around, he realized that they would have to go several kilometers out of their way to avoid crossing the rickety piece of junk. They didn't have that kind of time.
"Osiris Lead to convoy, begin slowing down. I want only a single vehicle on that bridge at a time. Copy?"
The drivers were hesitant. "Uh, are you sure about that, sir?" one asked.
"That bridge had been there for a while. I'm sure it can take it," another insisted, clearly still shaken up by the attack.
The driver of the rear vehicle was the worst, all but shouting, "I don't know about y'all, but I'm not stoppin' until we get someplace safe."
Goddamn Outie children! Locke shouted in his head. The bridge was coming up fast. He had no time for more of this Outer Colonist stubbornness. These people needed to follow orders. Now.
"You will all slow to a stop before that bridge or I will personally shoot each one of you when we get to that elevator and send your dead bodies up instead!" Locke barked into the comms. "'No man left behind' sometimes means going back for corpses, you understand me?!" There was a silence in response.
"Much as I hate to agree with the asshole, I think y'all better listen to him here," Tanaka butted in. "He may be a bit of a rude shit, but he knows his stuff." There was another silence. Locke was about to open a private comm channel to chew out his subordinate when the drivers replied.
"Copy, vehicle one slowing down."
"Copy, vehicle two slowing down."
"Copy, vehicle three slowing down."
The vehicles gradually decreased in velocity. They coasted to a stop about 5 meters from the bridge. Locke decided to put off any lectures until later. Things still needed to get done.
"Sergeant, take us over," Locke ordered. If the bridge collapsed under them, at least the other vehicles would be able to go around. Plus, seeing him take the lead might improve the disgrace that was their unit cohesion.
The Scorpion rumbled forward. Locke could hear the bridge groan under the weight. It sounded like it was well on its way to collapse. Had the earthquake weakened it somehow? Or had the company simply been too cheap to pay for adequate construction? After what seemed like an eternity, the tank reached the other side. Sgt. Singh moved it to the side of the road to allow the transports to go through.
"Alright, Vehicle One, move forward," Locke ordered.
The lead vehicle rolled onto the bridge. It was hopefully his imagination, but Locke would swear he could see the bridge bend under the weight. Yeah. Going one at a time had definitely been the right call. Thankfully, it made the journey across without any catastrophe. Locke breathed a sigh of relief, careful not to transmit the noise.
"Vehicle Two, your turn," he commed.
The second vehicle moved forward. It also made the trip largely without incident.
Locke was about to order the third transport forward when Buck opened a private comm channel to his team leader. "Contact rear, contact rear!"
Locke turned his attention from the transports to the distance behind them.
Oh, shit.
A number of Soldier APCs had emerged from the maze of broken earth surrounding Meridian Station. He counted at least 20 of the damn things. Where did these freaks keep coming from?
"Vehicle Three, move forward," Locke ordered. They needed to move fast. The Spartan IV cursed how under-equipped his fireteam was. If there was just some way to blow this bridge they could have delayed the enemy substantially. Sadly, they lacked anything resembling demolition charges.
The last of the transports moved forward. Just as it began its crossing, things went from bad to worse.
The ground behind the transport exploded.
A flash of light obscured his vision, followed by a cloud of silicates and debris. A trio of Buzzard gunships screamed by overhead. The sky above Locke was briefly turned blue by the trails of their propulsion discs. The rear of the transport was thrown into the air. The entire thing crashed onto its side partway over the chasm. Several colonists fell off the bin into the empty space below. Their screams echoed off the silicate walls.
The ground supporting the rear side of the bridge was obliterated. The bridge's end crashed downward into the crater the shot left behind. The whole thing was precariously perched on the edge of the chasm. It would only be a matter of time before the bridge collapsed entirely.
The Scorpion's turret swiveled to track the new hostiles. The advanced targeting algorithms pinpointed one of the aircraft. The tank fired once. One of the fucking things was blown out of the sky.
"Osiris Two, Osiris Three, check in!" Locke shouted over the comms. He jumped off the tank and began rushing toward the wrecked transport. Vale's biomonitors were now completely offline. He had no clue how she was holding up. She could be dead for all he knew.
There was a delay that seemed to last a lifetime. "Osiris Three, I'm alright," Buck replied. "I can see Vale lying on the bridge a bit away from me." There was another pause. "She's not moving, sir." Locke swore internally.
"Osiris One, moving to assist," Tanaka commed over the fireteam's frequency, getting ready to leap down from her perch on the lead transport.
"Denied, Osiris One," Locke responded. "I need you defending the lead vehicles. I'll move to assist." They couldn't just leave those in front undefended. Besides, Tanaka was still dealing with significant injuries. They couldn't risk her slowing them down. His subordinate confirmed his order, her displeasure clear in her voice.
Locke reached his end of the bridge. It was sticking up into the air, a result of the far end having fallen down several meters. He leaped up onto the deteriorating structure and looked into the distance. The APCs were getting closer.
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Yao Miller crawled under the survey vehicle. His leg throbbed in pain. Looking down, he could see a bit of bone sticking out.
Just my fucking luck, he thought with a scowl.
He looked out from his hiding place. What few of his fellow colonists remained were running, hobbling, or being carried to the other end of the bridge. To safety. He could see one of the UNSC pawns, the Spartans, carrying another of his buddies to the other side. Looked like the red one was in pretty bad shape.
Join the fucking club.
Several of the colonists looked back toward Meridian Station. Miller fought back tears as he thought of the city that had been his home for the last few years. He may have been a miserable shit, but he had still grown attached to the place. He had even made some friends there.
Now all of that was gone. His friends were all dead. His place was wrecked. His city was ruined. All gone. He was an orphan again.
The colonists who looked back got a freaked out look on their faces. Well, a more freaked out look, anyway. Miller looked and saw what had scared them. A whole shit-ton of those freaky cars were gunning straight for them. There were dozens of the fucking things. There was no way they'd be able to escape them all.
Miller was about to crawl out and try to make his way across the bridge when he noticed what part of the vehicle he was lying under. The hydrogen tank. He had an idea.
The Prospector and former engineering prodigy worked furiously. He grabbed what tools he had in his pockets. He had forgotten to take off his work clothes when he went to bed the night before. His drunken bender had been forgotten in all of the chaos. Maybe they should sell genocide as a hangover cure. God knew there was enough of it going around to be able to mass market it.
The world seemed to shrink around him. Miller lost himself in his work. He hadn't been so focused in years. He applied skills he hadn't used for even longer. Knowledge he had tried to bury and forget, but had never quite left the deepest parts of his mind. Finally, his work was done. He looked back out from his workspace.
The tank was firing again. Miller saw one of those gunship things blow up midair. That only left one more.
The last gunship fired. Its shot hit dead on, for once. The tank belched black smoke and flames. The turret sank down to aim at the ground. Miller didn't know shit about tanks, but even he could tell it was dead.
Singh had been driving that thing. Miller hadn't like the stuck-up prick, but the guy had always been straight with him. He didn't deserve to go out like that.
The last gunship swung around. It hovered over the bridge and turned to the convoy. Light collected on the end of its gun.
A green ball flew out from the colonists. It struck the gunship. The thing seemed to lose control. The blue glow around its disc-things blinked out. The glow came back after a second, but it looked like whatever was piloting the thing didn't have control yet. It flew sideways down into the canyon at top speed. There was a loud bang as it struck something and blew up. The bridge shook. Miller almost had a heart attack as he looked back at his delicate work.
The ground on the other side of the bridge started blowing up. Miller looked back towards Meridian Station. The armored car things were firing on them. Looking back, he could see the last of the colonists get loaded onto the flatbed. The lead vehicle had already left. They had forgotten about him.
Miller could have called out. He could have climbed onto the survey vehicle and waved for help. Some of the Spartans seemed like they were noble enough that they might actually try to save him.
As he glanced back at the cars again, he realized there was no time. They were right on the other side of the bridge. The Soldiers themselves had jumped off and were coming across, firing as they went. Miller could see some of their 'feet' as they moved past his workspace. If the Spartans came back for him, they would probably all die. Hell, they might all die anyway. He looked back at his latest project.
A thought occurred to the former Insurrectionist bomber. He chuckled in cynical relief.
"It fuckin' figures," Miller said, detonating the suicide bomb.
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Enemy fire whizzed past Locke's ear. His shield flared as it was grazed by the energy rounds. Locke fell to one knee and fired on the enemy. They were starting to come across the bridge. Any moment now, their shots would strike Vehicle Two and disable it. Not to mention the APC rounds, which were getting closer to striking their mark.
Vehicle Three exploded. An enormous ball of flames burst out and rose into the sky, trailing a cloud of black smoke. The Soldiers nearest to the blast instantly burst into their own, smaller detonations. The already weakened bridge finally broke apart from the strain. The pieces fell into the chasm below, burying whatever remained of the Buzzard.
The fuel tank must have ruptured, Locke thought with relief. Finally, some luck.
He joined Buck on the survey vehicle and ordered the driver to get moving. It didn't take much convincing. Shots from the APCs were still exploding all around them.
They left the Scorpion to burn where it sat. There wasn't time to recover the sergeant's body. At least he'd gone out fighting...
Locke glanced back at the flatbed. Vale had been secured along with the other injured colonists and survivors of Vehicle Three. She had lost consciousness on the bridge. Locke had managed to reboot what few biomonitors remained in her suit. She would need medical help as soon as possible if she was to have any hope of survival.
"How's Vale's sidearm looking?" Locke asked Buck. All Spartan IVs were expert marksmen, but the former ODST was still the best shot out of all of them. As evidenced by him shooting down a gunship with a goddamn plasma pistol. If there wasn't some kind of award for that, there needed to be.
"Burned out," Buck replied. Locke bit back a curse. He had known it would probably fail, but he had still hoped to get a bit more use out of the thing. They were really starting to hurt for ammo.
"Osiris One, we have reached the elevator. Beginning loading of civilians now," Tanaka said over the comms. Excellent.
"Copy, Osiris One. Osiris Lead, on our way. ETA 5 minutes," Locke responded. Splitting their forces had been a tough decision, but at least now they were virtually guaranteed to get some of the civilians to safety.
They arrived at the elevator. The civilians from Vehicle One had already been loaded onto the carriage. Buck picked up Vale and carried her as fast as he could to place her amongst the evacuees. He had just returned to help the rest of the civilians board when the carriage shot up the stalk.
"Osiris One, what the hell do you think you're doing?!" Locke shouted over the comms. Tanaka had been aboard the elevator.
"I'm sorry, boss! I don't know what happened," Tanaka responded. "One of the colonists must have hit the wrong button or something."
"Can you bring it back?" he demanded.
There was a pause on the line. "Don't think so. None of us are familiar with these systems," she replied.
A series of particularly vulgar expletives made their way across Locke's mind. He could almost certainly override the controls with his hacking programs. However, in the time it would take to access the system, override the upward trip, and get the elevator to safely decelerate and return, the colonists already inside could have just unloaded themselves at the orbital end. It looked like they were stuck waiting.
There was little hope that the Soldier forces wouldn't arrive before they could evacuate. Even if they didn't, they couldn't risk the enemy sabotaging the base of the stalk. If the emergency brakes were tripped, anyone inside the carriage would be killed by the whiplash. Not to mention the threat of the whole stalk braking off. Locke analyzed their environment.
The area immediately around the base of the stalk was a raised platform that the pieces of moving equipment were meant to deposit their cargo containers onto. Beyond that was a relatively flat, open space, surrounded by silicate cliff faces surrounding the entire area. Why the company hadn't cleared them away was anyone's guess. Maybe they had predicted the need to defend the elevator from one of the seemingly endless militant threats humanity faced in this galaxy. It would be a refreshing bit of foresight considering the FUBAR nature of the rest of the colony.
There were cargo containers full of silicates stacked to one side of the loading area, along with cranes and power loaders to maneuver them into the carriage. Multiple transports, so huge they dwarfed the survey vehicles the survivors rode on, were parked nearby. If Sloan were still active they would probably already be on their way out to collect more cargo from the mining pits. There was a small office building to one side, presumably to process new arrivals. About 20 meters from the elevator was a stone obelisk, about 10 meters tall and 2 meters thick, that Locke supposed was a monument to commemorate the colony's founding. Further away from the stalk there was a bottleneck where the road was surrounded by steep cliffs. The space between the cliffs was huge, of course, but it would still condense their targets if they were stupid enough to assault the place head on.
Given their previous lack of intelligent tactics, Locke was betting their enemy would do just that. Besides, if the Soldiers did anything else they were all fucked.
Going over the area again, Locke noticed a relatively small building set directly next to the office building. It had the Meridian Security title painted on the front. The sign was badly faded, worn down by sunlight, silicates, and neglect.
"Osiris Three, check that building for supplies," Locke commed. To his relief, they found an entire armory's worth of ammunition. At least they'd be supplied.
Locke turned to the civilian they had placed in charge of the conscripts, a 'Dmitri Ivanov'. The man was missing an arm, meaning he could only use a sidearm, but his experience as a Marine had been invaluable in getting the citizen soldiers organized. "Set up a perimeter. Keep watch for hostile units while we get set up," Locke ordered. Ivanov nodded and went to perform his duties.
"Osiris Three, think you can figure out how to work one of those power loaders?" Locke asked.
"Sure thing, Osiris Lead. What's the plan?" Buck replied.
"I want to move those cargo containers. We can use them as fortifications."
The Spartans got to work. Fortunately, they didn't have to worry about resupply or additional friendlies, so they were able to make a solid line of the multi-ton cargo containers blocking the way through the canyon to the base of the stalk. Locke used a crane to lift filled cargo containers from the side of the loading area and drop them roughly in the location they need to be in. Buck then used the power loader to maneuver them into an airtight line. The civilians seemed to calm a bit with the massive barrier between them and danger. Buck then moved a piece of thick sheet metal to form a ramp up to the top of the cargo containers. They would be able to fire on the enemy from an elevated position.
They also created a final fallback point just in front of the elevator itself. It was composed of several bundles of support beams dropped in a solid line.
The civilian conscripts moved forward to take their places on the wall. Locke could hear Ivanov shouting at one of them. "Riley! Pick up the pace! Double time!" The civilian in question scowled. Locke noticed he only did it facing forward, where Ivanov couldn't see. It looked like he had no place on a battlefield. He was clearly an office worker, and an out of shape one at that. He wasn't the only conscript that would have washed out of basic. Still, they were desperate, and it looked like they could hold together well enough.
The defenses were now established. There was no time to do more. The enemy would be upon them soon.
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The Master Chief came to a bend in the cavern he was following. He was within 20 meters of his destination. He had to restrain himself from sprinting. He eased his way around the bend, ever mindful of threats, his eyes scanning the feed from his helmet's enhanced light mode. Then he saw what was there.
The Master Chief rushed to the collapsed cave's end. To Dr. Halsey.
The good doctor was half buried beneath the rubble.
"Doctor, can you hear me?" the Chief asked. He realized that he didn't have a medical scanner on him. It was with Kelly.
Dr. Halsey groaned weakly. "John...is that you?..."
"Yes, doctor, it's me. It's alright. I'll get you out of here," the Chief assured her. He used his combat knife to chip away at the rubble. He swept aside broken silicates, using his gauntlet as an excavation tool.
When he cleared away enough to see Dr. Halsey's lower half, he stopped. He froze.
No...this can't be happening...not again...
John looked back to Halsey's face, just barely visible within the helmet of her hardsuit.
For perhaps the first time in his life, the Master Chief went into denial. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Not after all this. He focused completely on her face. If he didn't look at the damage, he could convince himself it was survivable. He could convince himself she would be okay...
Halsey was struggling to keep her eyes open. Not that it would do her any good in the near complete darkness. She reached her hand out blindly.
"...John..." she said weakly. John took her hand.
"Doctor...it's...it's going to be okay. It's going to be okay..." He was desperate to believe it himself.
"...John..." she said again, marshaling her strength.
"I'm here."
"...John...all of you..."
Dr. Halsey smiled.
"...so proud..."
Dr. Halsey closed her eyes.
"Doctor?" the Master Chief asked, his voice filled with fear. "Dr. Halsey?!" he asked again, the fear becoming terror. "Catherine!" he shouted.
It was no use. Dr. Halsey, his mother, his creator, his guiding light in a galaxy that had let him down...was dead.
John sank to his knees. The storm in his soul raged as his world spun out of control.
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"Osiris One, status on the elevator," Locke commed.
"Civvies are just about done offloading. I reckon about 5 minutes until we can send up the last batch," Tanaka replied from the top of the stalk.
The Soldiers arrived immediately after Tanaka finished her sentence.
Maybe they hacked our comms, Locke thought from his perch atop the wall. That kind of humor would fit their dickhead personalities.
The APCs stopped just before they would have entered the bottleneck. The infantry dropped off of their tops and moved forward. They must have thought the defenders had more tricks up their sleeves. That, or it was another example of the Soldiers' complete lack of logic. Whatever the case, the defenders took full advantage of the tactical mistake. Locke, Buck, and the conscripts lay prone atop the cargo containers, pouring fire into the advancing targets.
Some of the lessons learned in the battle for Meridian Station had clearly died with the Soldiers destroyed there. These replacements clustered together. When one of them died, it weakened the armor of its compatriots.
The Spartans used coordinated precision fire to down individual targets. The explosions of their deaths weakened the group of other Soldiers around it. The conscripts would then fire into said group. More would die. Eventually, that particular chain reaction would die out. The defenders would then repeat the cycle on another cluster of attackers.
The APCs started opening fire from their position beyond the bottleneck. Some rounds impacted the cliffs on the other side of the defenders. Some hit the advancing infantry. Some, however, made there way through. The ground just before the wall was struck several times. Mixtures of dark brown earth and dirty black silicates were thrown into the air. Luckily, the conscripts were wearing helmets scavenged from the late Security Force. Without them, their lungs would have been shredded by the razor sharp silicate particles thrown into the air.
An APC round struck one of the cargo containers. The container groaned under the weight as its structural integrity was weakened. A wave of silicates rushed out of the hole like sand. Some of the conscripts stopped firing and stared downward in shock. Ivanov crawled over to them and shouted at them to keep firing. Locke was grateful. He doubted they would respond well if he did the same.
The attackers began spreading out. The domino tactic didn't work anymore. The APCs stopped shooting. Locke bit back yet another swear as the enemy reached the base of the wall. Their sheer numbers had enabled them to brute force their way through the defenders' wall of fire.
The defenders crouched and poured fire down at the enemy as best they could. The enemy fired back. Several of the conscripts fell over the side, their heads or upper torsos obliterated. Many of the Soldiers stowed their weapons on their backs. They used their talons to pierce the metal of the cargo container and scaled the wall, moving upward like spiders. Several detonated as gunfire struck them. The cargo container groaned more.
"Fall back! Fall back!" Locke ordered.
It was all the Spartans and Ivanov could do to prevent the tactical retreat from turning into a rout. The defenders sprinted down the ramp and toward the final defensive line. One of the conscripts, Riley, tripped halfway there.
The Soldiers finished scaling the wall. They rained down fire on the retreating colonists. Riley finally snapped. He stood bolt upright, not moving, and fired his Assault Rifle full auto on his attackers. He shouted, or screamed, at the top of his lungs all the while. He was cut down within seconds. His body was blown into a dozen smoldering pieces before it hit the ground.
Locke glanced back at the colonists huddled together on the loading area. They were taking shelter behind a line of equipment crates they had moved into a makeshift barricade. Evelyn Collins was trying her best to keep them calm. He could catch glimpses of the bloody bandage on her forehead as she moved back and forth to comfort her people.
The defenders continued firing. Not that they were all that accurate. Half of the conscripts were shaking so much he doubted they could hit the ground if they tried, let alone the Soldiers. Enemy fire rained down around them. More civilians died.
"Elevator's here, boss!" Tanaka commed. Locke looked back to see Collins ushering the civilians into the interior of the elevator's base. They would make their way into the carriage in seconds. Tanaka herself rushed out and took a position behind the barricade of crates. She fired her SAW at the enemy. Locke was once again astonished at how accurate she was with that thing as several Soldiers on the wall were destroyed.
"Get the civilians out of here. We'll take the next ride up," Locke ordered. They couldn't risk the Soldiers damaging the base of the stalk. The defenders would have to risk the journey themselves when the time came, but Locke wasn't going to risk the non-combatants.
"Boss, you expect me to leave y'all here?!" Tanaka asked in disbelief.
Locke was about to reiterate his order when the Soldiers on the wall stopped firing. They turned around and leaped over the far side of the wall. The defenders stopped firing as well, confused. Locke and Buck moved to opposite edges of the line of support beams, hoping to get a better line of sight on what was happening.
An unnerving silence hung in the air. The conscripts kept trembling.
Suddenly, the most heavenly thing Locke could imagine came over the comms.
"Osiris Lead, this is the UNSC Infinity, repeat, Osiris Lead, this is the UNSC Infinity. Please respond, over."
Locke's heart leaped in joy.
"Copy Infinity, this is Osiris Lead," Locke responded. "We are under attack. Repeat, we are under attack. The main settlement has fallen to unknown hostile forces, likely Forerunner in origin, and we are currently holding position at the base of the elevator. Repeat, we are holding position at the base of the elevator. Request immediate precision bombing of assaulting infantry. Repeat, requesting bombing of assaulting infantry, over."
There was a brief pause on the line. Locke mentally screamed at the fleet to hurry the fuck up.
"Osiris Lead, this is Captain Lasky," a familiar voice came over the comms. "I'm dispatching a wing of Broadswords to your location now. We're having difficulty contacting the Emergence from Dusk. Do you have any information on its whereabouts? Additionally, have you seen any sign of Guardian-01? Over."
"Copy, Infinity," Locke replied with a grimace. "Emergence from Dusk is KIA. Repeat, Emergence from Dusk is KIA. Frigate was destroyed by the unknown hostiles. Other than seismic activity there has been no sign of Guardian-01, over."
The center of the wall exploded, cutting off Locke's conversation.
What appeared to be a massive sphere of liquid fire consumed all but the edges of the cargo containers. A cloud of obliterated materials rose into the air and was carried away by the wind. The globe of otherworldly flames faded away, revealing a gaping hole in the wall. The ground and edges of the hole were glowing a molten red. A single figure advanced through the ruined defenses.
It was at least 2.5 meters tall. Unlike the Soldier infantry, it was not completely humanoid. Its torso was far more triangular and extended a significant distance backward. Said back curved into a hunch as it went up, flaring into 'shoulders' twice as wide as its hips. The head was set between the shoulders; it was clad in what looked like a death mask from some aboriginal society. It looked like a cross between a man and an insectoid scarab.
Its limbs were also wrong. The legs were normal, with only one knee rather than the digitigrade limbs some aliens featured. However, there were what appeared to be 2 vestigial arms sticking out of the center of its upper chest. They hung there, looking like the useless limbs of a T-Rex. Its primary arms were clearly artificial and designed only for combat. One ended in a blood-red energy blade that resembled a cross between a sword and a hook made of right angles. The other ended in what was unmistakably a heavy weapon. The weapon glowed red at the tip.
The colonists were silent, awed by the creature that had appeared before them. They had no idea what to make of it. The Spartans, however, recognized what it was immediately. They had seen footage of its kind from the now-destroyed Forerunner world Requiem.
A Promethean Knight.
The Knight fired its weapon once more. The entire center of the final defensive line was consumed in another globe of liquid fire. Several smaller spheres of red arced out from the impact point, creating their own molten craters.
All of the conscripts were killed instantly. Locke could see Ivanov firing away with his pistol before being consumed whole by one of the miniature blasts. The Spartans themselves barely had time to lunge out of the way. Only their augmented reflexes and muscles, along with their positions on the edges of the cover, enabled them to escape oblivion.
"Osiris One, send up that elevator, NOW!" Locke ordered.
Tanaka rushed to comply without bothering to confirm. Moments later, the elevator carriage shot upward along the stalk. The Spartans were alone on the planet's surface.
The remaining members of Fireteam Osiris focused their fire on the newest enemy. Their shots did even less damage than they had against the Warden Eternal. Nothing even came close to scratching its armor.
The Knight angled its weapon upward.
Locke charged directly toward the Knight at top speed. He knew that he had no chance in a ranged fight. He fired his Battle Rifle as he ran. The Knight turned its attention away from the elevator. Excellent.
The Knight readied it sword/arm. Locke was in no mood to see if his armor could withstand a Forerunner melee weapon. As he got close to the enemy, he threw his Battle Rifle at its head. The Knight slashed its weapon through the air. The rifle was neatly cut in two. Locke ignored the pang of loss as his personal weapon was destroyed. He drew his combat knife.
There was no way he could win this fight. The Promethean Knights had been observed shrugging off tank shells back on Requiem. His knife wouldn't even scratch the surface. His only objective was stalling long enough for the civilians to escape. No more innocent people were going to die on this fucking planet. Not because of him.
The Knights swings were powerful. The Spartan used his thrusters to dodge to the side. The air sang as the enemy's blade passed within centimeters of Locke's midsection. His shield was instantly depleted.
Locke started losing the fight almost as soon as it began. He was unable to strike. Unable to counter. It became all he could do just to stay ahead of his foe's attacks.
Abruptly, his back hit a solid object. The Knight pushed forward and slashed horizontally. Locke lunged into a roll, barely ducking below the strike. The blade passed clean through the stone obelisk Locke had spotted and ignored earlier.
"Osiris Lead, this is Broadsword flight Epsilon-214, requesting target designation, over," another new voice came over the comms. Help was here.
Now they just had to keep this freak still long enough for Locke to get clear.
"Hey, asshole!" Buck shouted out. The Knight and Locke both turned.
The former ODST used a power loader to fling an empty cargo container through the air. It spun as it flew, arcing straight toward the Knight.
The Forerunner warrior's heavy weapon fired. The cargo container was blown in half in mid-air. The ends fell far to either side of their target, their ends glowing red. The Knight turned back to see Locke finish shoving the top portion of the obelisk with all the force his muscles and thrusters could bring to bear. The blow struck by the Knight moments before had split the monument in 2. All Locke had to do was give it a push.
The Knight was pinned by the obelisk before it could react. Locke sprinted away, his muscles burning as he pushed himself to go faster than he ever had before.
"Osiris Three, las the target!" Locke ordered.
"Already on it, sir," Buck replied. The Broadswords would be able to direct their fire to land right on top of the pinned enemy.
Still struggling beneath its stone burden, the Knight managed to once again angle its weapon upward. It fired.
The blast struck the elevator's stalk. Locke watched in horror as the entire thing seemed to vibrate in place. There was a thunderous groan. He looked up, using his armor's telescopic function to locate the carriage.
No...
The elevator had stopped part-way up the stalk. Its emergency brakes must have been tripped. Even if the colonists had secured themselves, the sheer force of the sudden deceleration would have killed them instantly. Collins and all of her people were gone.
Fireteam Osiris had failed. Locke had failed.
He barely noticed as the Broadswords' payload landed dead center on the Promethean Knight. Barely noticed as the Knight exploded and burned away with a force that made the Soldiers' demise seem tame. Barely noticed the pair of Pelican dropships swing into view, one landing to allow the Spartans entry while the other kept the Soldier forces suppressed.
Buck had to physically shake Locke to tear him away from the sight of the frozen elevator carriage. Locke's instincts took over. He felt his body carry him toward the waiting dropship. Felt himself climb onboard and strap himself in. Distantly felt the acceleration as the ship took off.
A thought occurred to the stunned soldier. He pulled up the feed from one of the Pelican's external camera's and focused on Meridian Station.
The colony was completely destroyed. The entire city was one giant pile of scorched rubble. Even though the resolution was not detailed enough, Locke would swear he could see the bodies of colonists covering vast swaths of the ruins. Everything on Meridian was dead. Gone.
Gone because of him.
The rest of the journey passed in a daze.
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The world of Meridian trembled. For the third and final time, an area of the planet's surface was wracked by terrestrial upheaval. Hills and cliffs were created. Structures both natural and artificial collapsed as their foundations were undone. Ruin was spread to what little of the world had so far escaped it.
Unlike the previous tremors, the ground did not still. It did not settle. Instead, the broken terrain collapsed downward into a massive crater which then exploded upward in a geyser of rock, soil, and silicates.
Out of this rain of debris rose a figure. At nearly a kilometer and a half in height, it was taller than any skyscraper. It was certainly taller than any human ship rated for atmosphere. Those had to be relatively small due to the sheer force necessary to push into orbit.
The Guardian had no such restrictions. It rose out of the ground and into the sky as if gravity itself had no authority over it. As it rose, two enormous limbs extended and stood proudly out to its sides. They looked for all the world like metallic angel wings.
This was the only part of the construct that resembled anything holy. Its surface was a uniform chrome, save for the joints. These glowed with an ethereal light that seemed to shift between every color on spectrum of light visible to humanity. It likely extended far beyond even that. Emblazoned on the Guardian's surface were countless hieroglyphs, each of which were so complex they strained the eye to witness.
Its 'body', for lack of a better term, tapered to a point on its lower end. Its lower half resembled the segmented form of an enormous millipede. Its upper half appeared to be composed of an infinite number of continuously shifting interlocking plates. They formed hieroglyphs like living mosaics, shifting to a new symbol every few seconds.
At the construct's upper end there was a head. It resembled a humanoid skull. There were 2 eyes, 2 sinus holes with a nose ridge, and a row of naked teeth set in an eternal grin. The fluctuating colored lights visible in the construct's joints blazed within the sockets of this 'skull'. To look at them was to gaze into a kaleidoscope of unnatural, incomprehensible complexity expressed through light.
A sound, a song, rushed forth from the Guardian's form. It resembled a war horn mixed with the roar of an otherworldly beast. It reverberated throughout the planet, seeming to rattle the component atoms of everything within range. With the song came a pulse of electromagnetism. What few machines remained functional on the world either ceased to function or had its energy shield flare up.
The Guardian continued its ascent. It accelerated as it approached the edge of the planet's atmosphere, as if eager to meet the human fleet gathered to oppose it.
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My God...
Captain Lasky observed the Guardian rise into high orbit. It had been one thing to see the far-off, grainy footage of the previous Guardian appearances. It was quite another thing to see one active and coming directly at his fleet.
Although, oddly, its approach vector seemed to indicate that it was leaving the atmosphere in a line directly perpendicular to the ground. It was as if the Guardian was simply leaving the planet without giving the human fleet any thought at all.
"Frigates Pandora's Lament and Emergent Destiny move into formation Delta-23," Lasky ordered over comms. The officers in command of the smaller ships signaled their compliance and moved into their new positions. All of the 7 remaining frigates of the Infinity task group were now in position, spread out to the sides of the flagship. Lasky felt another pang of loss as he was reminded of the destroyed Emergence from Dusk. He steeled himself. Its crew would be avenged.
"I hardly think that's necessary," a most unwelcome voice put in. Major Caroline Ackerson was once again on Lasky's bridge. Evidently, she had wanted a front row seat.
Captain Lasky simply stared at her. His expression made it abundantly clear that he was not going to tolerate her undermining his command. The ONI officer raised her hands in mock surrender.
"I was simply voicing my opinion. You are, of course, in command," she said in what Lasky could tell was false humility. "We're likely to get better footage from multiple angles, anyway," she continued, clearly still thinking of the battle as already won. Lasky was not so confident.
The Guardian entered weapons range.
"Captain Lasky to Electronic Warfare, deploy payload. Repeat, deploy Guardian payload," Lasky ordered over the comms. The ONI agents in the EW section confirmed the order and activated their weapon.
The Guardian seemed to pause as the electronic attack struck it. The ever-shifting surface of its upper torso shimmered chaotically rather than form more alien text. The bizarre light visible within its joints increased in brightness substantially. The Guardian's previously steady course became erratic as it seemed to have difficulty controlling its own propulsion.
The effect ended before the Infinity could even fire upon it. The chaotic shimmer ceased, replaced with more of the endlessly complex script. The lights faded to their prior illumination. The Guardian corrected its course, continuing to move directly away from the planet as if the fleet was not even there.
"Fire primary armament," Lasky ordered his weapons officer.
The Infinity's primary gun, the mighty Super Magnetic Accelerator Cannon, flashed in the darkness of space. Its 3,000 ton payload of ferric tungsten raced out toward the Guardian at 4% of the speed of light. The shot struck the target directly in its center of mass, guided with flawless precision by the Infinity's artificial intelligence, Roland.
There was a titanic flash as the round impacted the Guardian. The sheer velocity and mass of the payload produced an explosion the equal of any self-respecting nuclear strike. The Infinity's sensor suite was temporarily blinded by the dazzling display.
When they came back online, they showed the Guardian completely unharmed.
It oriented itself toward the human fleet.
Arcs of lightning began dancing over the construct's 'wings'. Soon the appendages were completely covered, shining ever brighter. A sphere of light gathered directly in front of the Guardian's center mass. The lightning arced into it. The sphere increased in luminosity until it resembled Earth's star, Sol.
"Roland, evasive maneuvers!" Lasky shouted.
The Infinity's emergency thrusters wrenched the ship to its side just as a shaft of blinding light leaped across the space between the combatants.
It was not enough.
The Guardian's attack instantly depleted the mightiest energy shield in the galaxy. It sliced through entire decks, the starship's titanium-A armor plating providing as little resistance as the energy shield had. The Infinity was wracked by explosions as compartments across multiple decks explosively decompressed. The primary fusion reactor went offline. The lights dimmed momentarily before the backup reactors kicked in.
"Damage report," Lasky demanded.
Roland's hologram appeared over his command chair's armrest. "Hull breaches from decks 3C-17A," he reported. "Primary fusion reactor shut down due to system overload. Energy shield down and momentarily non-functional. Primary and secondary weapons systems offline. Slipspace drive offline. Electronic Warfare suite ineffectual."
Lasky was stunned. He had been prepared for a hard fight, but this was a total surprise. This just wasn't supposed to happen. The Infinity was the flagship of the UNSC fleet. It was the mightiest warship in the galaxy, equipped with the most powerful and advanced systems and weaponry known to mortal kind. This type of blow was supposed to have been rendered a thing of the past.
Lasky shook off his shock. This battle needed to be fought. He was about to order his fleet to attack when he glanced at his console's external feed. His blood ran cold.
Another sphere, pure black this time, had gathered above the Guardian's head. It was miniscule compared to the one that had gathered prior to construct's initial attack. It seemed to absorb light rather than emit it, and was only visible due to the contrast between it and the lightning storm connecting it to the peak of the Guardian's head.
The sphere shot out, passing within a kilometer of one of the frigates. Rather than continuing on, it stopped dead and seemed to deepen in intensity. The frigate it had targeted was suddenly pulled sideways toward the sphere. To his credit, the ship's commander immediately had his vessel orient away from the orb and pushed it to maximum velocity.
It was not enough.
The ship was pulled inexorably toward the sphere as if it were a black hole. Screams rang out over the comms as the ship was compressed by the intense gravity. The screams were quickly cut off. Within seconds, the entire 500 meter long frigate had disappeared into a sphere no larger than 4 meters in diameter.
More pitch-black orbs shot out from above the Guardian's skull. Each one trapped a frigate. The Infinity's comms roared to life, filled with the desperate screams of those trapped by the gravity weapons. They only lasted a few seconds before they, too, cut out.
The Guardian resumed its previous course. It passed the Infinity's position within 10,000 kilometers. It did not orient toward the sole remaining human vessel. Its weapons did not reactivate. Apparently, they were beneath its notice now.
A hole was ripped open in the fabric of space. The Guardian passed through, and disappeared. Space closed up where it had obliged the titanic war machine, appearing as if nothing had ever been there.
The Battle of Meridian was over.
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On the surface of Meridian, the space elevator failed. Weakened by the dying blow of the Promethean Knight, its stalk broke off from the installation's base. The upper portions, having to travel at a significantly higher velocity due to their high orbit, pulled it upward.
The stalk passed over the planet like a worm moving over the surface of a fruit. Eventually, it fell back to the ground. The force of its impact produced a massive windstorm that blew a kilometers-tall wall of black silicate particles in every direction.
The wall would eventually pass over the colonized sections of the planet. Meridian Station, the terraforming machine, even the mining pits were all buried underneath a massive wave of dirty black glass. All signs of human habitation was wiped from view and buried beneath the ashes of the world that was.
Meridian would never be settled again. The terraforming would reverse in the months to come. The future that its residents had fought so hard for died. In its place was a barren globe of ruined earth, orbiting a vacant star until the end of time.
Act 2 at last comes to a close. I hope you all enjoyed the depressing horror. Think I'll go get drunk, or something.
Note: No one was more broken up than me when I realized I would be killing off Dr. Halsey. She's one of my favorite Halo characters. However, I realized that it was the best direction for me to go in this story. I hope I did the character justice.
Note: Halsey's death scene was heavily inspired by a scene in the Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanfic 'I Am What I Am.' I highly recommend it for anyone that doesn't hate the character Xander Harris.
Note: I hope the 'Aiko' character didn't come across as exploitative. Killing a child is one of the oldest tricks in the book and it usually comes across as insultingly lazy rather than emotionally powerful. I like to think I justified and set it up well enough that I pulled it off. Feedback?
Note: One of the biggest problems in Halo 5 from a storytelling perspective is that we never get to see the Guardians actually do anything. The most we see is one of them emitting an EMP at the end of it and, yeah, that'd be incredibly destructive, but it's just not very impressive. We should be terrified that all of these uber-death machines are being collected for nefarious purposes. Instead, they just come across as scenery. I hope I rectified that here.
Thanks for reading. Love you guys.
Slipspace Anomaly