*In Darth Vader Voice* I find the lack of requests in my inbox most disturbing...
Come on people don't be shy, send em' in.
~o~
Special thanks to SC_Matt!
~o~
UNSC INFINITY (INF-101) – IN ORBIT OF SHIELD WORLD REQUIEM
BRIDGE
The command room was in silence.
Yamato had just rammed a Covenant Wraith... and won...
While Lasky knew that her abilities to do this kind of thing rid a very thin line between quantum physics and magical bullshit, the other members of his staff didn't, and were currently going through the various stages of denial, anger, confusion, and finally acceptance.
SHIELD WORLD 0001 – DESIGNATE REQUIEM
SNIPER POSITION OVERLOOKING MISSION SITE
The Chief was perched high on a cliff face overlooking the covenant infested arroyo. Like an unseen predator, he stalked his prey with the scope of his weapon.
*CRACK*
A now riderless ghost span out of control and hit the rocky ground, tumbling as it tore itself to pieces.
The Chief lined up another shot with Nornfang, Linda's custom SRS99-S5 that she'd let him borrow for this mission.
*BOOM*
A headless brute toppled over, his spiker firing wildly into the air.
Palmer's voice chimed in over comms. "Keep covering Yamato, she's almost to the cave entrance."
"Roger that," replied the Chief.
SHIELD WORLD DESIGNATE REQUIEM
MISSION SITE – 'DAWN'S HIDEAWAY'
An advancing Covenant platoon caught Yamato by surprise- pouring out of the cave's mouth, spearheaded by three red-colored light vehicles, which immediately unleashed a fusillade of fire in her direction.
Dodging a volley of plasma fire, Yamato juked wildly to the side, crashing to the ground behind the cover of a boulder. Fuel rod bolts raced past her and some detonated on the rock she was hiding behind, causing it to violently shatter on top of her. She quickly picked herself up from the rubble up and hurled a large of it at the oncoming covenant counter-attack. The results could have been said to be comical if they weren't so gruesome. Grunts near the sides of the formation were knocked away like bowling pins while the unfortunate ones in the path of Yamato's makeshift projectile were simply crushed. An elite near the rear of the formation roared in indignation before being flattened.
The new set of combat clothes that she had received was custom tailored by a UNSC fabrication lab to resemble her original outfit, with the key difference being that her new clothes were made of a carbon nanomaterial weave that was incredibly tough. Still, sometime between being set on fire and ramming a tank with her body, she had managed to thoroughly wreck them. There were holes torn all over, and parts of the uniform had melted and rather uncomfortably stuck to her skin. Though, Yamato did have to admit it was leagues better than her old fabric uniform. She couldn't count the times that she'd lost her modesty after being hit by just one high explosive abyssal shell back at home.
The only thing that stood between her and Dawn was over a hundred pissed-off religious-extremist aliens. All in all, just another normal day for the techno-magical human battleship.
SHIELD WORLD DESIGNATE REQUIEM
ONI D79S-TC PELICAN – GOLF-33
ABOVE MISSION SITE DESIGNATE 'DAWN'S HIDEAWAY'
"On the count of three! One! Two! Three!"
Three shapes ejected out of the Pelican's troop bay as it came around for another attack run against the cluster of Covenant soldiers that were pouring out of the cave.
"Good luck, guys," Spartan Peter Samuels shouted over TEAMCOM as he opened up with the ONI bird's nose-mounted 70mm autocannon, raking a group of Elites with explosive rounds and painting the sand around the impact zone a shade of light purple.
"Yamato, we are inserting thirty meters to your five, six, and seven-o'clock. Just if you're wondering what those bangs will be."
"Bangs-?"
All three SPARTAN-IVs hit the ground at the same time, the emergency thruster units roaring to life just long enough to prevent injuries from the fall before detaching from their armor.
"Martinez-"
A loud whine drowned out whatever Spartan Matthias Clarke might have said next – a blue line originating from Spartan Jeremy Martinez' position, smashing directly into one of the Revenants and shearing straight through it, continuing into the next one just turning around to face Yamato.
Near-simultaneous plasma detonations marked the end of both vehicles.
"…Keep doing what you're doing."
A torrent of seventy-millimeter rounds came down from the sky, cutting through the Covenant ranks as Samuels committed to yet another strafing run. A missile joined the attack, impacting a group of Sangheili. A charred chunk of what looked like a forearm flew past the battleship-given-form, almost smacking Spartan Richard Michaelson in the visor, had he not ducked.
"What the absolute fuck that was-"
All three Spartans abruptly vanished from view, their weapons going silent. Even in the chaos of combat, Yamato picked up on the absence of UNSC gunfire from her rear – and slipping back into cover behind another rock formation, she looked behind her.
There was no sign of the three soldiers anywhere. The Pelican was still performing gun runs, so they hadn't abandoned her – not like that would have been under consideration in the first place. So where-
The familiar snap-whine of that one Spartan's weapon sounded in her ears, somewhere to her eight-o-clock position – and it was quickly joined by an explosion as well. Cracks of rifle fire echoed throughout the gulley again, this time on the Covenant force's right flank.
Less fire was being directed at her position now, and it was time to capitalize on that. Vaulting out of cover towards the Covenant, her fist found its first victim – a Jackal, colliding directly with the alien's shield.
Built to withstand small-arms fire, it was no barricade to over one hundred thousand horsepower being directed at a point no larger than fifteen centimeters. The alien's upper body immediately was reduced to a fine bright-purple mist – and the unfortunate avian next to it soon suffered the same fate.
HOLY WORLD OF THE ANCIENTS – 'REQUIEM'
TREASURY OF THE WARSHIP
Field Master 'Kralitai rose to his feet. Jul'Mdama had given him a task – capture or destroy the UNSC forward base that had been causing problems for their operations in the area. When he had arrived, however, the human vehicle had already been destroyed. The Demon was also spotted in the area by his scouts, and he had borne down on it with all haste.
What he had found was a human – but not. His vanguard had been annihilated, the not-human disposing of them with contemptuous ease. It had then pursued his force to this area, severing communications with the rest of the Covenant garrison on this planet before descending within the cave system to finish the job – or so he thought.
Instead, it had offered its services – when connected to their local battle-net, it had discovered that she was after the same end-goal as the Storm were: to destroy the Infinity, exterminate her crew, and eradicate her escorts. With the wretch's abilities, they could have expanded their territory, pushed back against the humans, took back land from the infidels – but no. She had to 'master her potential' first.
Even now, his forces were engaged in combat with the humans – including another abominable one – at the very mouth of this cave, and yet she did nothing to help.
"Order our Seraph fighters to eradicate that irritable dropship!"
"Excellency, our Seraphs are gone! You had ordered them to re-establish contact with Supreme Commander 'Mdama, and they have not yet returned."
"Then you will take it down yourself. Arm yourself with whatever weapon you choose, and head to the overwatch. Do not fail in this task, and your family on Resplendent Devotion will be allowed to live another day!"
The Sangheili officer shied away from the command center, cowed into submission.
SHIELD WORLD 0001 – DESIGNATE REQUIEM
OVERLOOK POSITION
The Pelican buzzed by again, its autocannon churning up the ground at the rear of the Covenant forces.
While effective, they had the unfortunate implication of stirring up large clumps of dust, which would otherwise have compromised the Master Chief's ability to effectively engage in his assigned role – but Nornfang corrected that problem.
Every shot went straight and true. The Grunt lifting a fuel rod to bear on Yamato – blown in two. The Jiralhanae laying down suppressive fire on the impulsive SIV below – now without a head. The red-armored Sangheili emerging from the top of the base, now lacking a chest cavity.
Every shot claimed a life – or multiple. The Chief continued his task with utmost efficiency, now pruning the Covenant soldiers emerging from the cave itself.
SHIELD WORLD DESIGNATE REQUIEM
MISSION SITE – 'DAWN'S HIDEAWAY'
A barely noticeable shimmering of air caught Yamato's suspicions for a moment before she decided it was just a result of the harsh sunlight hitting Requiem's rocky surface and heating up the surrounding air. Yamato froze. Wait... she'd definitely seen that kind of thing before... and the last time she did an alien had tried to turn her into a battleship shish-kebab. This wasn't helped by the fact that the "shimmering" was beginning to take on a definitively humanoid shape.
Yamato dodged hard left, but it was too late. A massive blow slammed into her gut, knocking the wind out of her and sending her flying into the canyon wall some 50 feet away. Her impact cratered the wall as she hit it face first at what seemed to be hundreds of miles per hour.
"MMmmmmmmmmph!"
Turns out it's hard to yell for help with a mouth full of hard granite.
Before she could separate herself from the rock, the hammer came down again - hard- driving her head deeper into the rock like a nail into wood. She braced herself for yet another blow, but it never came. Instead, she heard a brutal bellowing over comms – drowning out all other noises – followed by the sound of a hard impact, metal against metal. Something fell to the ground nearby, but the bellowing – now accompanied by something roaring as well – did not cease. Nor did the metallic collision sounds. It wasn't rifle fire – or cannon-fire – but something else entirely.
Yamato found purchase on the rock wall, and began to lever herself out. Cracks developed around her palms as her engines roared, and she abruptly staggered backwards as the stone released its grip.
Turning around, she saw Spartan Martinez, holding the shattered stock of Jeb, bringing it down over and over again onto the pulpy mass of what used to be an alien's head. The broken barrel stuck up from the ape-like creature's heart, apparently forced straight through the armor.
Now hitting sand more often than brain matter, the Spartan showed no sign of stopping. The sound of rifle fire intensified for a few minutes, as the Covenant were forced back to the mouth of the cave.
She looked back at the wall – away from the UNSC soldier, who was inattentive to everything except for digging a hole – and saw a very definitively Yamato-shaped imprint.
Years later, UNSC scientists looking through the simulations taken from Requiem Occupational Campaign records would be absolutely stupefied as to how that got there. The top geologists and forensics analysts in their fields would eventually come to the not-quite-satisfactory conclusion that the imprint was just a cosmic coincidence caused by a form of selective erosion unique to Requiem on the basis that any human, no matter what kind of armor they were wearing powered or otherwise, would have been squished flat against the rock long before such an imprint could have been made. The name of Jul'Mdama would become even more cursed by the respective academic departments, for due to the destruction of Requiem, the one-in-a-million geological formation had been forever lost.
HOLY WORLD OF THE ANCIENTS – 'REQUIEM'
TREASURY OF THE WARSHIP
That was it. No longer could he rely on his underlings – if he wanted those heretics dead, he would have to do it himself. If that eldritch abomination lurking beneath the ground wanted time to figure out her life's arc, she would have plenty of it.
Kralitai snarled as he stalked up the passage, bracketed by his Mgalekgolo honor guard. Behind him stalked his stealth-fighters – each capable of laying waste to an entire UNSC garrison, each a veteran from the bloodiest battles of the holy war that had ended too soon for victory.
They would deal with this incursion, and deliver punishment to the lineages of those that had failed in their task. This in mind, they approached the entrance to the tunnel network that had served as the high-ranking Sangheili's command post for the past four months, and prepared to exterminate the enemy force beyond-
And then that accursed human craft descended in front of the cave, light flooding into the interior, blinding them, throwing them off-guard-
And then… darkness.
SHIELD WORLD DESIGNATE REQUIEM
MISSION SITE – 'DAWN'S HIDEAWAY'
"SAMUELS! STOP SHOOTING! STOP SHOOTING!"
The Pelican began to move off from its position, revealing the now-slightly-widened entrance. So much for even the slightest amount of stealth – their erstwhile pilot had communicated in no uncertain terms that the Covenant detachment assigned to this garrison was no more when he decided to stick the front of his ONI-loaned Pelican into the mouth of the cave and flood the interior with 70mm explosive rounds. That was acceptable. The four anti-tank missiles weren't.
Footsteps behind him signaled the approach of his resident gunsmith – and the battleship-woman. He turned towards the two – and stopped.
The twisted piece of metal in Martinez' hands could only belong to his stupendously overpowered coilgun – Jeb. From the bits of bone and brain matter still crusted onto it, he had apparently used it as a club against something… and given the condition of the weapon, it didn't give easily. Clarke looked towards Yamato, his eyes darting around, trying to notice whether or not there was any sort of damage to her head, if Martinez had snapped and had tried to attack her – but nothing jumped out.
Then he saw Jeremy's face, through his depolarized visor. He was smiling.
"Sergeant…?"
"…I'm fine. Don't…" The normally stoic warrior cleared his throat. "Don't bother. Let's just finish this mission."
The cave entrance loomed ahead. Dark and foreboding didn't quite do the entrance justice, especially since Clarke knew what he and his team were walking into. Yamato took point, considering that she was the only one here that could take a 50mm autocannon round to the head without having it reduced to its component atoms.
Samuels remained in the Pelican, now on patrol around the area. If the Covenant attempted to move in behind them, they would have to deal with the gunship first – and if the rogue frigate were to terminate the rest of his fireteam's continued existences, the Spartan pilot could retrieve the Chief and get the hell out of dodge before they met the same fate.
Clarke's worry of the salvo of missiles causing the tunnel to collapse were unfounded. While the rock was blasted away from ground zero of the impact, it revealed the Forerunner material beneath, bearing almost no damage – and after ten seconds of observation, even that disappeared as the material seemed to repair itself.
'Forerunner tech... If the Covenant were able to gain insight into this technology, then the only reason we ever stood a chance against them was because of religious dogma.'
A minute of walking brought them to a large chamber, still filled with Covenant consoles. Three dead Sangheili lay on the floor in various stages of dismemberment. Judging by the neatly-severed limbs, they had most likely been killed by energy blades. Even then, it was still unsettling, given what was being held deeper in the facility.
Undoubtedly this was some sort of local Covenant command post. Two particle beam turrets were set up on the far side of the room, pointing at a Forerunner door leading deeper into the complex. Approaching it, Clarke could feel every cell in his body seemingly crawling with revulsion, every footstep becoming more and more difficult to undertake. Beside him, Michaelson seemed to feel the same way, as did Apex's designated sniper, who was currently carrying a rifle taller than anybody in the room.
The particle beam cannons were inactive, their power cells detached from the weapons themselves. Still didn't make SPARTAN-IV-311 feel any better.
As they closed with the door, Yamato still on point, the fireteam kept their wits about them. Scanning the room with Promethean Vision turned up nothing, no cloaked Covenant, no improvised explosive devices, nothing that could pose a threat to them.
With a brief series of snicks, the door fractured apart in the ways that they always did, to reveal a gently sloping path leading deeper beneath the ground – and separate hallways branching off from it.
Normally, Clarke liked walking into Forerunner facilities, as did Samuels whenever he was forced to leave his Pelican behind. This, however, was wrong. Tainted. Almost like the reports from Installation 03 and Installation 05 regarding containment, quarantine, and extermination procedures against the Flood – the very architecture exuding not-so-subtle menace, no longer awe-inspiring but instead warning of hidden danger.
After a minute or so of wandering through the tight corridors of the primary hallway – hoping that the rogue frigate wasn't down another one of the metallic tunnels, now sneaking up behind them – a new problem reared its head. Yamato crossed the threshold of yet another door, and almost immediately an energy field snapped up to bar the rest of the team's passage.
Three more fields flicked into existence, forcing the fireteam to back up rapidly, to prevent being trapped between the barriers – or being caught in their formation.
And then it got worse. The large door at the end of the section that Yamato was in slid apart, extending forward like the fingers of some ravenous giant before slipping into a wing-like formation on each side of the hallway.
And striding down the middle of it was their target. The glowing lines on the floor changed color as she approached, shifting from a light bluish-green to an energetic blue, almost crackling with energy – and then to deepest black as she left that patch behind.
Instincts took over as Clarke froze in terror. This was the rogue frigate, no doubt about it.
Every muscle fiber and nerve ending in his being stood on end while his hyper-perceptive senses screamed DANGER, DANGER, DANGER,into his mind.
She was beautiful, no doubt about that. Her slender form was punctuated by curves that were only accentuated by her dark bodysuit.
Her eyes burned a gorgeous golden while her obsidian locks shone as they flowed down to her waist.
It was hypnotizing, watching her approach – both from the way she moved, the way she looked, and the way the hallway darkened behind her, as if even the technological power of the Forerunners was no match for her aura.
Under different circumstances, Clarke might have asked for her name, and possibly out on a date – provided, of course, that there was no Melanie Hosanna to run interdiction. If she even would run interdiction.
But he had learned from experience. Beauty was often only skin deep, more often than not. He knew that beside him, Michaelson was probably lost in his own world, captured by the grace of the frigate-woman's movements. Martinez… if he hadn't seen him outside, smiling, even while holding the remains of what was apparently one of his most treasured possessions in his hands, he would have figured the man would still be a stone-cold professional.
The woman approaching them was wrong. Wrong to the very depths of her existence. Wrong wrong wrong. Her hands were stained with blood – figuratively, that is – human blood. UNSC blood.
Letters above her chest revealed her name. Forward Unto Dawn. FFG-201. The legendary ship that had brought about the end of the Human-Covenant War, that had returned – at least partially – from her trip outside the Milky Way Galaxy. The ship that had carried the Master Chief to this world, and had sheltered him during his descent through the entrance portal.
There had been the most obnoxious shitstorm brewed up when the UNSCDF command staff had ordered the front of the ship to be scrapped – no, that was a misnomer. She was brought out to the glasslands of East Africa and repeatedly hit, over and over again, with nuclear devices and other ship-killing weapons. 'Possible contaminants', they had said.
Clarke remembered his team being assigned to the Gate, the structure serving as the watchtower for Requiem's Cartographer facility. At times, a few of them had left the structure to head down to the Dawn's crash site, to pay their respects. And then, one day, when they had finally bore witness to one of the UNSC's large industrial reclamation craft entering Requiem and heading to the main crash zone… they had found nothing.
The entire ship, gone almost overnight. Poof. Doctor Benoit had taken two others to the site that night. They didn't report in the next day.
Doctor David Benoit. Two Marines that Clarke hadn't bothered to learn the names of. Lieutenant Gregory Barker. Second Lieutenant Adam Breakfield. Five others that kept the Mammoth designated Sigma Octanus running smoothly. Seven Marines, assigned to that same Mammoth.
All of those deaths, all needless. All on that one frigate that had betrayed them, sullied her hands with friendly fire, murdered those that she was built- designed- made to protect.
Looking at her, he knew. This wasn't just some ONI black-ops project. It was something else. Something worse. The fact that the creature before him was assuming the name of one of the most heroic ships to have existed in the UNSC navy was just an added insult.
Yamato had turned to face the oncoming threat, her body glowing with its own otherworldly energies. Rings of steel began to form around her back, and with a sharp movement, a wide array of triple-barrel cannons tore their way into existence, along with a fearsome secondary battery and anti-aircraft defense emplacements. As if to complete the odd sight, with what sounded like a few notes from a Japanese wind chime, only much louder, a parasol popped up as well, landing in a slot within the array of weapons.
Meanwhile, the Dawn had completed her transformation as well. Rows of miniature 50 mm point defense turrets dotted her gloved arms while missile pods poked threateningly out from her sides. But most notably, mounted upon one of her shoulders was a massive angular cannon barrel.
"Die," hissed Dawn, and that was all that was needed to snap the fireteam out of their trance, all three immediately seeking cover- all except Martinez, who had now brought his Spartan Laser to bear, even blocked as they were by four energy barriers-
And a hypersonic blast shattered the silence of the Forerunner complex.
~o~
Author's Note- The fight you've all been waiting for: coming soon.