"CAUTION. STALL SPEED. CAUTION. STALL SPEED. PULL UP-"
Morgan tuned it out. This bird was going down, and it was going down fast. Things had snowballed the moment they hit the ring's atmosphere. The control room, surrounded by cold air and a constant snowfall, wasn't the best place for a wounded Pelican.
The fire had been out, but the damaged engine wasn't restarting, and she didn't trust trying to relight it anyway as the radar altimeter fluctuated wildly with each new rise and fall in the canyons and mountains in the area. They were running on fumes, a fuel leak having been missed, and even now hemorrhaging the precious fluid. The MASTER CAUTION light was lit like a flare, and no amount of pressing it would make it go away.
A blocky brick of steel, the Pelican was far from aerodynamic, and with their engines slowly spooling down as the fuel feed no longer drew from the tanks, they were only capable of gliding, and Morgan fought the stick the whole way down. The bird drifted and fell, dense air clawing at its wings as gravity and air resistance worked together to drag it and the Spartans inside of it down to the ground.
An impact in the rear. They had hit something, and at the next drop, Morgan grunted loudly, jerking the stick to the left and pulling back to send them into a canyon. The next wall clipped their right wing, shearing off a foot and a half of material. They weren't going anywhere else except for down as the Pelican dipped to the right, despite her constant stick and rudder inputs. Hydraulic pressure was falling, and Morgan was already worried the stick would break if they didn't crash first. She could feel it bending in her grip even now.
Ahead, the ground came up to meet them, filled with rocks and another smaller chasm. It was barely big enough to fit the Pelican in, and with the Pelican slowly nosing forward despite pulling as hard on the stick as she could, she knew it was going to be a hard landing. "Brace!"
She called out to the Chief just before they went in, the Pelican hitting hard and sliding through the dense snowbank, Morgan's restraints snapping and throwing her into the windscreen, a barely concealed yell as her armor's gel layer pressurized and stiffened. Behind her, the Chief had hit his copilot's console and cartwheeled until he hit the roof of the cockpit, leaving a massive crack in the glass before falling straight down with a heavy thud.
Stuck in the space between the windscreen and the pilot's console, Morgan groaned, the sound of alarms blaring in her ears and the white noise feeling of numbed pain in her chest. Her weapons were gone, having been detached from her armor in the crash, and she forced herself to crawl out of the space she had been thrown into.
It didn't feel good at all to move, and she fought the urge to just lie there and let herself give up. When she reached the edge, she fell into the floor, the impact much easier to ignore than a crash. Another groan, and she forced herself to her feet, stretching her arms and legs to make sure she hadn't broken anything that would slow her down.
"Chief?" She called out.
"We're fine," Cortana replied, the Chief getting to his feet, his helmet shaking as he tried to stave off the effects of the crash. He had been dazed, his impact no less staggering but he was in better physical shape than the Commander was.
"Green, ma'am."
"Good. We need to get moving. Sooner we get done, sooner we go home." That was all that was driving her at this point. Her shotgun was on the floor, scuffed but otherwise fine. Her rifle was mostly in one piece, but the stock had split and the bolt wasn't set properly. It was useless at this point, but her pistol was across the cockpit, near the bulkhead separating them from the bay. The Chief's weapons were in a similar state, but all still good enough to work.
Frowning, she grabbed the shotgun and pistol, sliding the shotgun on her back and moving to the bulkhead before stepping into the bay. The rear door had snapped open, letting snow and freezing air inside. Their supplies had been scattered across the bay, quite a bit being thrown out into the snowbank they had dug a trench through in their descent.
With a sigh, she stepped out and looked for a weapon to replace her rifle, settling on a stray battle rifle. Emptying her magazine pouches of the assault rifle's ammunition, she replaced it with a few to feed into the battle rifle. Bigger, better rounds, but never enough to last her when she really needed them. A hard trade off.
The Chief seemed to have a similar mindset, trading his rifle and shotgun out for another battle rifle and refilling his ammunition stores. Finally, the pistol was abandoned in favor of a pair of SMGs that he strapped to his thighs as if they belonged there.
With their visors meeting, she nodded and led the way out, battle rifle up and at the ready, and when it was clear, she lowered it and took in their surroundings. The sound of sparking internals in the Pelican was swallowed up by the snow falling endlessly, and she wondered if they would be met with pure silence when they left the mortally wounded Pelican behind.
There was no reason to stick around anymore, and the Chief seemed to think they should move, turning around with his weapon up and skirting past the Pelican. Morgan followed, her armor's diagnostics chiming as they finished their scan. Nothing was wrong with it, per se, but there was with her. One of her ribs had suffered another crack somewhere between the fighting on High Charity and the crash, and she bit at her cheek. As long as it held, she'd be fine. The armor's gel layer puffing up would stabilize it as much as it could with the addition of the biofoam, but so many injuries would limit her endurance. If they got this done in the next hour or two at most, she'd be fine, but if they got caught out and stuck in an extended deployment, well… it wouldn't be pretty for her.
Pushing it, and the slowly throbbing pain in her side, into a box in her mind, she soldiered on. The chasm around them swallowed them up until the walls hid away the black pillar of smoke pouring out of the Pelican they had left behind. Another few minutes of walking and a distant explosion sounded, echoing off of the walls several times before it went quiet again, the snow muting almost all sound other than her breathing inside of the enclosed helmet.
They had gotten out of the Pelican just in time, she guessed.
"Something just entered the ring's atmosphere, can't be anything good." Cortana's voice sounded worried over the comm, and she was probably right. They kept moving, as fast as they could in shin deep snow and both run nearly ragged after near constant, hectic fighting. Even Spartans could be worn out under the right conditions.
Turning around a curve in the rock wall, she saw their objective rising up in front of them. An angular, delta shaped building built into the far wall of widened canyon rose out of the snow and into the bare white sky. Several levels led the way up to a massive bulkhead door that was just barely visible.
"Is that the control center?"
"It is. It looks just like the first one did."
"Understood. Let's pick up the pace, get in there before-"
A pressure in her mind grew, too quick to think of what it was, and then she nearly felt herself brought to her knees by the pain. It was as if something was squeezing her skull between two massive hands, and forced a scream back down as the voice in her head sounded in all of its unwanted glory.
"YOU THOUGHT ME DEFEATED?"
A massive hand grabbed at her, pulling her back to her feet. Looking up at the owner of the hand, she saw the Chief, struggling just as hard against the mental onslaught.
"Flood dispersal pods! You need to get to the top of the control center or they'll overwhelm you!"
Morgan didn't need to be told twice, and neither did the Chief. They both started moving against the disorientation, weapons up as they fought against the snow, exhaustion, this new attack on their minds, and time. Time was something they never seemed to have enough of. Now, with the Gravemind once again aware of their plans, she saw his putrid army starting to fill the sky, pods touching down and exploding, unleashing Flood forms and staining the pure white snow a sickly gray-green.
Her shotgun in hand, she led the way, with the Chief unloading on them at range with his battle rifle. Hot brass soared through the air, steam wafting off of smoking cartridges before they disappeared into the blanket of white coating the ground. With each pull of the trigger, another Flood form dropped, the boom of the rifle echoing off of the canyon walls. They got closer and closer, with even the Master Chief being unable to keep them at range for long. There were too many, and it was going to be a fight all the way up the side.
Her shotgun joined the fray before too long, and the first combat form was ripped apart by the hail of buckshot. Chick-chack. Another one met their end, scattered as the cone of pellets tore through rotten bone and muscle, liquified organs doing little to protect the body itself. Chick-chack. Two forms caught another blast, close enough that the fireball expanding out of the barrel reached the combat form and burned away part of its skin before it, too, fell to the ground, limp forever.
She reloaded every chance she got, never wanting to let up as the Flood continued to swarm in, and for a time, it looked like they would have to start backing up. Two tank forms rose from a pair of pods that came down far too close for comfort, and Morgan pulled the trigger again. Her shotgun clicked, empty, and she tossed it, whipping her shotgun to the ground and pulling her rifle over her shoulder. It wouldn't stop them nearly as easily, but it was better than nothing.
With the battle rifle coming up and her finger magnetized to the trigger, she was ready to pull and start slinging more lead, but something else stole her target from her. A ruby red beam of energy pierced the tank form, igniting the rotten skin and dropping it to the ground without a chance of it getting back up. Smoke rose from the corpse and the edges of the hole that had been made glowed red hot.
Her rifle shifted to the other target, firing as fast as it could, when she looked for their savior. She spotted him just as the voice came over their comms channel.
"Keep moving! I'll cover you!" Sergeant Major Avery Johnson had arrived in the nick of time, and she could see the Spartan laser hefted on his shoulder, looking far too large for his form, but he hefted it as if he had been made for it. It started to charge for another shot, a thin red targeting beam ready to guide the shot in. Another bright beam pierced through the second tank form, sending it the way of its fallen brethren. "Now!"
She reloaded he rifle and the Master Chief moved past her in a combat glide, scooping the shotgun up and tossing it back for her to catch by the stock and start reloading the tube that ran under the barrel, filling it with shells before she moved to catch up.
The motion tracker was filled with red dots, slowly lighting up with yellows here and there as defensive Sentinels floated into the area and started firing on the Flood in an attempt to contain their outbreak before they could get to the control room. It didn't do too much, but it did enough to clear the swarm out for the two Spartans to move and breathe a little bit easier.
The first level was filled with the parasite, and out of sight of Johnson's overwatch, but so long as another tank form didn't come, it wouldn't be needed. The area was narrow, more compact, and easier to stem the tide of puppeted corpses.
Morgan's breathing echoed in her head, growing more ragged by the minute as her side continued to ache. She could feel her rib shifting every so often, despite the biofoam, but there was nothing she could do without a medic, not that it had helped her all that much in the first place. Hectic fighting like this only meant it would be a matter of time before she was hit hard enough to undo all the medical work anyway.
More monsters from her deepest nightmares continued to fill the air with their screeches, loud enough to make even the stars quiver under their onslaught. Her instincts, her years of combat, her very nature all told her to fight, and she did. She raged against the dying of the light, in the twilight hours of Humanity's greatest struggle against not only an alien genocide, but against the fetid ocean of undead that arose as the darkest sin of the Forerunners. Her body was on autopilot, adrenaline flooding every vein and artery almost as much as the oxygen that her lungs clawed at, and she was left to almost watch herself fight, as if watching it through somebody else's eyes.
She was reduced to that same little girl that she had been all those years ago, standing amid the glasslands that had been made of Sapphire Point, the remnants of the fallout bunker she was in crumbling around her. But now, instead of rain and smoke, the skeletal starscrapers, and the cries of the wounded, there was only the promise of death at the hands of something that would rip away not only her life, but her very essence.
They would take Cortana back, would steal and take everything that she possessed. They would kill the Chief after they tore apart his mind and his soul, too strong even for him to fight against if he was infected. Finally, they would kill her, they would take away her memories, of parents that were nothing more than faint silhouettes in the back of her mind as she dreamed at night, and even worse, would take away Noble. She wouldn't lose them again. The Covenant had taken their bodies from her, had taken their lives. If she let the Flood have their way with her, decided that there had been enough fighting and she would stop finally, they would take her memories of Noble, take away Jorge and Emile's tags, steal all that she held dear anymore.
She had lost her family once, twice, never again.
An animal mind and an unbridled rage realized that more than just Humanity was at stake. A yell, one that threatened to damage her throat, ripped loose inside of her helmet, transmitting over the comms link and startling both the Chief and Cortana.
Morgan watched through eyes filled with red hate, listening to the calls from Cortana and the Chief, to Johnson's questions of what had happened, but she couldn't respond, her shotgun firing almost as if it had been made a slamfire weapon, the entire tube being fed through the chamber with the barrel shifting from target to target like it was being attracted by some unknown force.
The lethality of a Spartan had been made mythical throughout the war. Soldiers trained to be the ultimate killing machines and given equipment to make them godlike with nothing to lose and everything to protect. They were Aries reborn, and with a lifetime of anger and bitterness sealed inside of Morgan, even the Master Chief was forced to try and keep up as her shotgun was discarded, her pistol and a knife being ripped from her waist. Every shot was on target, and every swipe of her blade met the infection form hidden deep inside of rotten chest cavities.
Deep inside, she heard the glassing beams, plasma fire, the crackle and pop of UNSC Marines fighting until they were slowly snuffed out, before the bunker had sealed her away, clutched tightly in an older woman's arms, one whose name she had never learned. A dull ache in her chest made her vision pulse, and nearly brought her down, but she kept going. Her helmet showed a medical alert. Her rib had shifted enough and rebroken. Pressurizing her armor stabilized it, but not nearly enough for prolonged combat. Already, it was hard to breathe, and with the sudden change, it felt like the Chieftain had her again, ready to crush her until blackness was all she knew.
Then the way to the ramp up to the next level was showing through the line of corpses, and she went for it. Her heartbeat thundered loudly in her ears, the sound of blood rushing through them nearly blotting out the voice that called for her.
"Commander!" The Chief was trying to get her attention, but it didn't stop her. She kept moving, weapons up, nearly plowing into a combat form at the top of the ramp. The whip like arm was already pulled back, ready to whip forward and take her off her feet. Not even the adrenaline infused world of Spartan Time would be fast enough to react for her. The pistol in her hand was coming up, her knife moving to try and cut the tentacle when it came forward.
"Morgan!" Cortana's voice, her name, it broke through the haze, and her breath caught as she realized what she had done. Overextending was deadly for a Spartan. Kurt had drilled that into every single recruit in the company. But that didn't stop the tentacle from starting its deadly assault on her, and she waited for the pain that came with it.
But it never came. A hail of bullets covered it from behind, punching through the rotten core and bouncing off of Morgan's shields after their energy had been expended. The Flood form had met its match though, the shoulder being shorn off by the amount of fire that went in and followed a diagonal path down to the opposite hip. Falling at her feet, Morgan looked up, seeing Johnson standing across the third level, brandishing an SMG while his Spartan laser dangled on a sling across his back.
His face looked flushed, and he was breathing in quick puffs that steamed and dissipated in the cold air. Immediately, he jogged for the door, his fist beating against it in a futile attempt to get the attention of the Monitor. "Spark! Open the damn door already!"
The Chief passed by her, shotgun held by the pump as he held it out towards her. She took it and followed him to the door, both wordlessly taking positions on either side of the Sergeant Major, ready to stop anything that came up the two ramps that came from the second level. Gunfire continued to fill the air, intermingling with plasma fire and the firing of Sentinel beams. The filters blocked it all out for the two, but Johnson wrinkled his nose, irritated at the smell of burning and rotten flesh, something far from pleasant to the old man.
With his helmet speakers off, the Chief called for his AI companion, still glaring down the sights of his SMGs. "What happened back there?"
The AI's response was slow, even as Sentinels floated out of holes in the wall and joined their brethren below in enacting their containment protocols."Unknown, her vitals are through the roof. Increased heart rate, fight or flight response is engaged, she's exhibiting the same type of stress levels as… a caged animal. Her rib is broken, and one of her lungs could collapse at any minute. If she keeps fighting like this, she's going to die, Chief."
The Master Chief frowned under his olive drab helmet, doing his best to cover the rabid Spartan in gore stained blue armor. "If only we were so lucky."
"What do you mean?"
Cortana didn't get an answer from the older Spartan. Typical.
A heavy thunk behind them, and the door started to slide open slowly, barely big enough for them to fit through. Johnson went first, slipping out of the cold with his weapon up and leading the way. Morgan followed closely, and the Chief finished off their little train, the door closing behind them just as it had opened. Now, they were safe, for the time being, but it was still freezing inside, much to Johnson's chagrin.
Cortana's voice chimed in their ears, sounding worried. "More dispersal pods just hit the atmosphere, and they'll be making ringfall any minute. The doors broke my connection with the Dawn's datalink, so we're blind until we get back out, but I know it's gonna be hot."
Morgan frowned behind her helmet, yet another snag hitting their plan. They'd be able to set the ring off, but with each passing second, their odds of getting off of the ring alive, or even at all, dropped. "As long as we can light the place, we'll have done our job."
Johnson looked back over his shoulder at her, and through the swollen portions of his face where he had been beaten at the hands of the Brutes, she could see concern on his face. "That doesn't mean we have to die here."
"No, it doesn't, but if I finish that, I can rest easy."
Her voice sounded like she was close to wheezing, as if fighting for air. Johnson grunted, turning away from her. He didn't like not being able to see through that golden visor, but it didn't matter. "You can rest easy when we get back to Earth, Commander."
"Maybe."
Johnson left it at that. It seemed all Spartans were as stubborn as mules, and with the control center just around the corner, there was no more point in arguing with her.
A port in the wall opened, the Monitor floating out, his cheery humming filling the air and putting yet another damper on the moods of the three Humans and their AI companion. "Splendid! You've all made it!"
Johnson ignored the little blue ball, moving towards the control room. A large bulkhead shifted open, revealing the glass bridge that led up to a control panel and the holographic representation of the ring, several sections showing red and orange in contrast with the teal colors that showed just how unfinished the ring was.
The roar of the Flood sounded behind them, and Morgan felt her blood run cold again, until another bulkhead sealed it away. Turning on it, she kept her weapon up, ready to fight them off if they managed to get through, however unlikely it may be.
To her side, the Chief pulled Cortana from his helmet, and she looked over. Johnson already had his hand out. "I'm not gonna lose her too," he said, and wordlessly, the Chief tossed Cortana's chip to him, which the old Sergeant caught and turned for the control panel.
As he got further away, his voice lowered in volume, but Morgan's helmet and enhanced hearing heard every word of the conversation, with most of it carrying over Johnson's ear mounted comm link.
Spark hovered around him, as if surveying him. "Wonderful news, Reclaimer, this installation is almost complete!"
Johnson's sarcasm bled through thickly. "Terrific."
"Yes… it is." A beat, an uneasy silence between the two, and the Monitor went on. "I have run my simulations. No promises, but this ring should be ready to fire in just a few more days!"
The clatter of something dropping, and she looked over to see Johnson dropping the Spartan laser to the ground, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "We don't have a few more days."
"But a premature firing will destroy the Ark!" Morgan felt the hairs on the back of her neck stick up, and turned away from her bulkhead to move closer to the threshold of the door, stepping through and moving towards the Chief. Their visors met, and he shook his head, gesturing back towards the still open bulkhead. She frowned, but continued to watch it, glancing back at Johnson every few moments.
"Deal with it," Johnson spoke back, as if irritated and dealing with a petulant child.
"You'll destroy this installation..." Morgan turned her head one more time, only to see the Monitor glowing red, and before she could comprehend what had happened, a laser had fired from the Monitor's central eye, hitting Johnson in the chest and drawing an agonizing scream from the older man.
The Chief had seen it too, and they both began to run for the fallen trooper as fast as they could, with Morgan ignoring the dull throb in her chest. Even now, the Monitor was ranting, angered by their apparent disinterest in keeping his replacement installation together, and the orb turned on them.
Another laser fired from his eye, hitting Morgan in the center of her chest plate and taking her off her feet. It was like running into a brick wall, and her shields drained completely, a warning tone in her helmet blaring loudly. Her breath was gone, and she gasped and wheezed to try and get it back. Scorch marks covered her chest plate and she could feel the heat bleeding through, her skin blistering even under the heavy armor and tech suit.
Another cry came from the Chief as he met the same response, and Morgan rolled onto her side, trying to prop herself up as the Chief rose to his feet again.
"I see now that helping you was wrong!" The Chief, stumbling forward, was stopped and brought to his knees by another burst of fire from the Monitor. "You are the child of my makers, inheritor of all they left behind… You are Forerunner." For a moment, he returned to the blue color, and Morgan thought that maybe he was done trying to kill them, but she was wrong. "But this ring..." His color shifted back to red, and he floated closer to the Chief, "...is mine."
The Chief's armor was smoking heavily, and Morgan struggled to stand until her shields blared another warning, charging up slowly. Finally on her feet again, she stumbled forward, until a cough traveled up her throat and a splatter of blood hit the inside of her visor. Closing her eyes for a moment, she fought off the dizziness that suddenly came over her.
The Monitor continued to float closer as the Chief got to his feet once more, visibly struggling as much as Morgan was, until he was pushed back by an invisible force field, his boots shrieking as they slid across the floor despite his heavy weight. Morgan was taken back off her feet as the force field hit her as well, and she was forced back down onto her back as her vision flashed white with pain.
With the Monitor bearing down on the two Spartans, being pushed to the limit, it seemed like they had been lost. "This ring was entrusted to me, and I will not see you destroy it again, Reclaimer."
"Not… for long." A struggling voice came over the comm, and Morgan could just barely make out the thin red laser painting the Monitor, until it solidified to a thick red beam that sent the Monitor careening over the edge.
Following it back to where it came from, she saw Johnson propped up on his elbow with the Spartan laser in hand. Putting it back on the ground, he slid it towards them, with the Chief scrambling forward to grab it before the Monitor could return. Morgan crawled forward, eyes on Johnson, who had fallen back to the ground and remained unmoving.
A battle broke out between Spark and the Chief, with more bursts of fire from the Monitor's beam and the Spartan laser exchanging every few moments. Her heartbeat was thundering in her ears, almost deafening, until she finally got to Johnson and grabbed his shoulder, turning him onto his back.
Brown eyes looked up at her, and the Sergeant looked like he was going to say something, when he was racked by a rattling cough. His chest armor had been destroyed, melted by the intense heat of the Monitor's beam. There was no doubt that it had fused with the uniform jacket and the skin beneath it, but it had done its job.
Morgan could feel her stomach sinking into a pit even as an explosion filled the room, and she tried her best to cover him with her body as shrapnel pinged off of the floor, screaming into the darkness after it ricocheted off of the bridge and her shields. A heavy thunk, and footsteps followed close behind, the Master Chief closing the gap with armor still smoking heavily and electricity arcing across it, his shields recharging finally.
Kneeling down beside Morgan, their visors met, before looking down at Johnson again. She spoke for both of them when she said what seemed impossible. "We're getting you out of here, Johnson."
His voice was barely above a whisper, and blood was pooling in his lungs and throat from the damage he had taken. "No- No, you're not." Breathing in as much as he could, they could hear the liquid trying to obstruct it, and he raised a hand up to the two Spartans. Morgan took it without a second thought, feeling what was in it. "Don't let her go… Don't ever let her go." Morgan held his hand within her own, feeling the grip grow weaker with each passing second, and Johnson spasmed beneath her, another onslaught of pain racking his body. "Send me out… with a bang..." His last request complete, the two Spartans listened as his lungs emptied, and Sergeant Major Avery Johnson finally took his long awaited rest.
Neither said a word to each other, and Morgan could feel her heart wrenching as another one of her friends was taken by that long, dark night. She felt numb, and breathed in deeply before she let it out.
Holding her hand out to the Chief, she motioned for him to help her up, releasing Johnson's hand and letting it fall to the floor. Grabbing it, the Chief pulled her up, holding her arm around his shoulder and walking her to the control console. She held the data chip out when they arrived, and Cortana floated out of it, looking back up at the two with an expression of sorrow on her digital face. "Chief, Morgan… I'm so sorry..."
Neither responded, and after a moment, Cortana made a gesture. "It's done," she said, before disappearing into her chip once again. The Chief reached out, and Morgan placed the chip in his palm before he reinserted it into his helmet.
In front of them, a massive light shot from the interior of the ring's core, and the control room began to shake wildly, with pieces falling from above as they were shaken loose and dropped. With another shared glance, the two Spartans began to turn and run, Morgan fighting against her body's complaints as hard as she could. A large beam came down on the bridge, hitting it and making it shift, nearly dumping them over the edge.
They made it back to the entryway and turned the corner, weapons back in hand as their job was still in unfinished. They had to fight their way out now, and with the Monitor no longer controlling the Sentinel forces, it was likely they would be seen as enemy forces just as much as the Flood.
The bulkhead split apart, and they stepped through, the sound of gunfire returning in full force. Several Flood forms were firing on Sentinels, only to see fresh meat had reappeared. They were met with gunfire from the Spartans and cut down quickly, as well as the Sentinels that turned on them after the Flood was neutralized.
It was just one more bump in the road for them. They were alone on a ring filled with hostile entities and their only way out alive was several miles away while the ring itself was falling apart. The Chief led the way, his SMGs up and ready to burp more fire at whatever reared its ugly head. Returning to the entry they had used to get in, they saw it was easing open, and the Flood were pouring in already. The twin submachine guns fired, bullet hoses spraying down the horde and painting the two Spartans in their muzzle flash.
Morgan's shotgun was up and barked in its own way, spraying cones of deadly buckshot out and eviscerating anything that escaped the SMG's lethal chatter. The entryway emptied out quickly as the Flood was thinned to nothing for the time, and they moved as quick as they could outside, back into the cold. Looking left and right, the ramps were covered in burned corpses and pieces of Sentinels brought down during their absence.
"Over there, where Johnson came from!" Cortana pointed out that a bank of snow had come down, packing together and leading up to the cliffside that Johnson had traveled across on his way in. The Chief went for it, with no other options, and Morgan followed, covering their back and sweeping the area with her scattergun.
More Flood came for them, and they were put down with little trouble, but the Sentinels floating overhead proved to be a bigger problem. They weren't as powerful as Spark had been, and their weaponry was weaker, but it still posed a significant hazard. Near misses did more than plasma ever had, and Morgan grit her teeth as a glancing hit melted part of her shoulder armor and gave her what felt like a nasty sunburn. That said little about her shields, dropping to a quarter full almost immediately and shrieking in her ear.
Bullets sparked against the metallic casing and the Sentinel was brought down, smoking heavily, before they pressed on and into a corridor that led to the other side. The interior had already been filled with heavy fighting, scorch marks, bullet impacts, and debris both organic and otherwise were scattered across the walls and floor. Pushing on, the Chief stepped out into the entrance to another room before he quickly ducked back. Morgan saw why a moment later, as a rocket fired from what was likely a UNSC rocket launcher shrieked past and hit the back wall, exploding harmlessly. With a grunt, the Chief put his SMG around the corner and blind fired it until the ammunition ran dry. No more rockets came through, and satisfied, he replaced the magazine before trying to step back out again.
More Flood streamed inside as Sentinels continued to exit their ingress ports, and with a two way firefight, the Spartans didn't interfere until there were only a few survivors left that they put down with little retaliation. It continued like that for a time, until they made it out the other side, a Warthog waiting in the snow.
"There it is! Johnson's Warthog! If we move quick enough, we can get to the Dawn before this ring tears itself apart!" Cortana was taking the words right out of Morgan's mouth, and they moved as quick as they could to get in. Jumping into the driver's seat, Morgan started the engine, and it purred loudly before it roared. Feeling the Warthog bounce against its suspension as the Chief took the gun, she stepped on the gas, and it fishtailed for a bit before it rocketed off and down the hill, towards where a field of artificial plates were arranged in a miles-long lattice that seemed to make up the ring's structure.
"Cortana, can you get me a navigational beacon?"
"Of course, it should be on your HUD now, we're still a few miles out."
"What about remote interaction with the ship?"
"Negative, Commander. I'll need a hard interface with it before anything can be done."
She cursed under her breath as the Hog bounced when it hit the lattice structures, and already things were going to hell in a hand basket. Explosions rippled across the chasms on either side of them, one erupting beneath one of the square partitions and sending it through the air, nearly engulfing the Warthog and leaving the two Humans to feel the heat even through their armor.
Morgan kept the wheel straight and her foot on the gas, pushing for every bit of power she could get. A roundabout structure was just ahead, one that would force them to slow down and take slow lest they be flipped or wreck. More explosions went off and forced her to start dodging the materials or the gaps they left behind.
Hitting the harder, more filled structure, Morgan pulled the handbrake and the Warthog started to flail, the rear end nearly overtaking the front as it drifted around the corner. Several Flood infection forms came skittering across the terrain, and despite the Warthog's weight, it popped very few of them. Instead, it seemed to almost glide across the top, and she disengaged the handbrake to prevent being carried away by it all.
Her heart was thundering in her ears, the Warthog rumbling beneath her and the feeling of an earthquake could be felt even through the heavy frame of the vehicle. The HUD marker said they were getting closer at a high rate of speed, but it felt like they weren't moving at all. More girders fell from attachment points in the canyon surrounding them, smashing into the lattice and causing ripple effects that took out more than just those pieces that were hit. The Warthog started to slide as the lattice tilted, and Morgan fought it the whole way, struggling to keep it from going too far down.
Eventually, they made it to another level portion, and the Warthog returned to far easier driving. "Chief? You might wanna hang on," she called out, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he hadn't fallen off at any point.
He was still up there, stoic in the late day sun and the light of the planetoid at the Ark's core. Confident he wouldn't fall off, she focused on their route. A tunnel was their only way forward, moving through a massive complex that had been built into the cliffside. Several pieces fell away from the ground, save for one that would send them through the air.
Pushing the accelerator into the floor, Morgan braced herself for the jump and the inevitable impact, the Hog taking flight and soaring through the air before it lost enough forward momentum to come crashing down, and she felt it in her chest, swallowing a yell of agony that she felt through every inch of her body.
Pressurizing the suit as much as she could to stabilize the rib, it hurt, but it was better than constant shifting, even as biofoam filled as much of the area as it could around the broken rib. More jumps like that and the rib could puncture her lungs, or worse.
Entering the tunnel, the headlights were flicked on, and several more ramps were bathed in their glow. An internal groan was snuffed out as more girders fell, deforming the ramps even as the Warthog skirted underneath them just in time to not be crushed or swept over the edge and into the void below. Going up the first ramp was easy enough without having to go airborne, but when it came to coming back down, the Chief's booming voice filled her comm link.
"Contact front!" The LAAG opened up on the back, prattling on as heavy slugs shot out of the three barrels and into the Flood horde that had wandered onto the tunnel's scaffolding system. Several Sentinels were trying to cleanse them, with little effect. They were the first targets, being shredded by the Spartan's barrage, and the Warthog continued to gain speed coming down the ramps, and running right through the horde.
Several of the monsters were sucked under the massive tires, disappearing and being crushed, but others were torn in half, torsos and arms smashing against the hood and the windshield, cracking it enough to start a problem.
With the area clear ahead of them, she put the Warthog on cruise control and kept one hand on the wheel. The other was brought up as she leaned forward and rammed her fist against the outer rim of the windshield. It was designed to be shatterproof, like most vehicles that used glass in windows, and it spiderwebbed heavily as she beat against it, but it started to pop from its housing until, finally, another hit jarred it loose. Grabbing it, she grunted, and threw it over the side and out of her way.
Putting her foot back on the gas, she was forced to ascend more ramps and drive around Flood forms, with girders raining down on them the whole way, as if fate had ordained that they be stopped either by killing them outright, or making it hard enough for her to drive that they wouldn't make it in time.
Another roundabout rose up in front of them when they exited the tunnel, and she was careful not to try drifting again. This time, infector forms didn't come skittering out onto the roadway, but several carrier forms waddled aimlessly, and the Chief gunned them down as quickly as he could, but that sent several dozen infectors into the air before coming down on top of them, more than one gaining purchase on the Hog and crawling across the hood and interior.
His boots mag locked to the gun bay, the Chief let go and pulled one of his SMGs up, squirting the forms on the hood and ending them as quickly as they had been birthed, but one of them got on Morgan. She wasn't fast enough to grab it, and it started crawling up her arm and onto her shoulder. When it was about to crawl over her shoulder piece, she saw it ripped away out of the corner of her eye, crushed in a large, olive drab armored hand.
Flashing a green light, she felt her heart racing faster, as if it couldn't get any worse. Not only did they have to fight against time and natural combat, but infection forms getting onto their vehicle and posing a problem like that.
Another jump off the roundabout and they were back on the lattice structures, fighting a literal uphill battle against gravity and the ring's self destruction. Sentinels, nearly a dozen of them, were on their way to deal with the Flood, when they caught sight of the Warthog and opened fire. Sentinel beams struck the area around the Warthog, some making hits and melting down portions of the hood, the fenders, and even the metal roll cage, but barely avoiding Morgan. The flash of gold behind her showed the Chief had been hit, his shields barely holding as he returned fire, hiding behind the gunshield until they got far enough away that they dropped behind the lattice and the Sentinels were left behind.
"Charging sequence at thirty percent!" Cortana kept the appraised of how much time they had left, and with only a mile shaved off of the distance to the Dawn, Morgan knew they were going to cut it close with the winding routes and evasions they had to take.
Explosions went off across the lattice work, leaving gaping holes in it and more obstacles for them to go around. Another roundabout waited for them ahead, on the other side of yet another large drop that Morgan was already dreading, and she braced herself as they went up and over, coming down hard on the wheels, but she stifled another scream, focusing only on driving them. Blinking away tears, she struggled to breath against the pressure on her chest, and knew that if they got out of here alive, she'd need a doctor immediately if she wanted to stay that way.
More carrier and infection forms waited for them, and the Chief didn't gun them down this time. The risk was too great to try, and Morgan simply evaded them, despite the time it would take off of their dwindling clock.
"Fifty percent, Commander!"
Halfway around the roundabout, pure forms started to show up, several of them opening fire as the structure began to creak and groan, shifting and sliding. The Warthog started another slide that she tried to correct against until the Tank forms started to gallop toward them. One hit from a Tank would flip the Hog at best or kill the engine at worst, and given they were barely keeping up with the ring as it was, they would never make it on foot.
The LAAG opened up again, shredding a Tank form and ripping the arm off of another. Morgan skirted past them, just barely, and ramped over the edge to return to the lattice. This time, the Hog was tilting down, and landed on a sloped portion that made the fall much easier on the wounded Spartan in the driver's seat. She could taste copper on her tongue, and wanted badly to wash it out, but she would have to grit her teeth and bear it for the time being.
Another tunnel yawned open in front of them, already in bad shape. Several sloping structures ran through it, some crushed in areas by fallen girders and others victims of premature detonations that had left them ripped and torn, edges glowing red hot where they were damaged. The Warthog plowed on, engine roaring constantly as she kept it red lined in an attempt to outrun the ring's death knells.
Flood and Sentinels continued to fight in the darkened confines of the tunnel, and while no Sentinel beams painted the Warthog this time, several grenades fired from Brute shots screamed past on either side of the Hog, some passing by close enough that she could hear the fuse whistling for just a moment.
Yanking the wheel, she ducked the vehicle into a tunnel that ran beneath one of the slopes, hoping to use it as cover from the incoming fire, easily enough to rip a wheel off or break an axle, if not kill them outright from a direct hit.
"Seventy percent!"
Coming up and out of the underside of the slope, they saw light again, and in the distance, the blocky figure of the Dawn waiting for them. They were almost there, they were going to make it!
Passing up another ramp and taking to the sky, they came down hard, drawing another scream from Morgan, even as the Hog bounced up too high and went on two wheels. Trying her hardest to not pass out from the pain or let the Hog flip, she yanked the wheel and brought them back down before turning right and following another upwards slope. They were nearly there, she couldn't pass out now, not yet.
Coming down was easier than going up, and she gunned the Hog harder, pushing for the flat expanse in front of them, but plans changed when she saw the massive structural piece coming down, ripping through the lattice work and smashing most of the area they could use to get through. Going up the left, she followed another ramp, one that led them straight towards the Dawn's beacon.
"Ninety percent! Firing sequence initiated!"
An arch of stone passed over the lattice, and more explosions went off, one happening just behind the Warthog, nearly taking them out as she tried to keep it under control, grunting and ignoring the sweat that dripped into her left eye. A straight shot to the ship was all that stood between them, and passing under the archway, a downward sloping ramp that ended in a jump would send them straight into the hangar bay.
"Gun it, Morgan, jump! Right into the hangar!"
She didn't have to be told twice, the Warthog picking up speed quickly as it went down the steep slope, and finally, up the final ramp, flying through the air as she grabbed the wheel with one hand and the roll cage with the other, hoping they made it.
The Hog started to nose down as they entered the hangar bay, and it landed hard on the tow system and the front edge of the hood, somersaulting through the air and leaving a trail of sparks. Morgan held on for dear life as she was shaken like she was inside of a snowglobe. The Chief was thrown from the gun, the heavy clang of his armor impacting on something sounding loud enough for her to hear. Another roll and she was thrown loose too, slamming into the wall and bouncing off as the Warthog slid across the bay on its roof, finally coming to a stop.
Black rimmed the edge of her vision, her armor reporting internal bleeding in her chest. Staggering to her hands and knees, she looked over to try and find the Chief. He had hit a support pillar and passed around it, cartwheeling to a stop not far from her. He tried to rise as well, making it into a kneeling position. The two locked eyes, and he nodded to her, and despite the pain she was in, she nodded back. Suddenly, the ship shifted to the right, and a screech went up as something started sliding. Morgan looked up to see a Scorpion had broken loose from its restraints, and was already sliding across the bay, right at her. Cursing in her mind was on repeat as she forced herself up and limped towards a safe spot, hoping against hope that she wouldn't be crushed so close to the end.
But then the screeching stopped, accompanied by a heavy impact. She had made it into a small alcove next to one of the hangar doors leading into the rest of the ship. More containers had followed the tank down, and she forced her way out of them to get eyes on her companion. He was already running for the central console in the bay that allowed manual activation of the loading elevators and an AI interface port. Taking Cortana's chip from his helmet, he shoved her inside, and she popped up immediately. "Hang on! Commander, get to the bridge!"
The ship's engines flared to life, sounding like a constant barrage of thunder as they went to maximum thrust. The ship started to move, angling upwards and climbing towards the portal's entrance. Boxes and containers started to break loose as the Dawn went nearly vertical, the Chief hanging on to the AI console and Morgan struggling to hold on
Slamming the command to force the door open, she pulled herself over the bulkhead and into the corridor. The artificial gravity kicked in as the door shut behind her, and she ran for the nearest elevator, taking it up to the bridge and scrambling for the commander's chair. Tossing herself into it and strapping herself in before she covered herself with crash webbing, she relaxed ever so slightly, feeling the exhaustion take hold of her as her body finally stopped, run ragged and half dead.
"Chief!"
Cortana's voice snapped her out of whatever sensation of rest she had attained, and quickly, she opened up the helmet cam feed from the Chief. He had been thrown to the back of the hangar, and even now, he was climbing back up to Cortana, digging his armored fingers into the deck with every thrust of his hands, and when he finally made it, the view Morgan saw on her face was pained.
Grabbing the chip from the console, Cortana was pulled out of the system, leaving it on a course with the portal. Sliding around the console, the Chief leaned back against it, and while she could only see the hangar bay wall, she could still hear them both.
"If we don't make it..."
Cortana's worry was snuffed out by the Chief's deep voice, always confident. "We'll make it."
"It's been an honor serving with you John, Morgan."
White light engulfed the hangar bay, and the Chief's helmet camera had whited out, the bridge being covered in the same blinding light as Halo either detonated or fired before the Dawn dove into the portal.
Morgan's vision went black as the portal started to shake the Dawn in the same manner it had during its first pass through the portal, although without the mass of the Shadow of Intent acting as a buffer this time, Morgan could feel herself being thrown around in her seat, one of the straps snapping and causing her vision to fade even further. She couldn't see the helmet camera anymore, or much of anything, and with constant shaking agitating her chest with every shake, she finally succumbed to the agony and blacked out.
Morgan awoke sometime later, with little idea of how long she had been knocked out. Blood was pooling on the inside of her helmet, covering her chin and discoloring the bottom portion of the visor. Shaking her head to clear some of the dizziness, the world stayed somewhat blurry. Coughing, more blood spattered against the interior.
"Chi-" Another cough. "Chief, Cortana, do you read me?" Her voice was hoarse, and sounded like Johnson's had. Blood had gotten into her lungs, and she felt light headed. She had lost too much, either managing to get out of her body or pooling in her chest cavity somewhere. Warnings across the top of her HUD were telling her that things had gone wrong, too many things. She was hemorrhaging blood like a stuck pig, another rib had broken, and her right lung had been punctured.
With a wheezing intake of air, she tried again. "Sierra 117, please respond." Nothing. Something had happened to them. They were unconscious, that was it, or his armor had been too damaged for Cortana to respond in the explosion. An EMP, maybe. She finally noticed the bridge was looking at something a deep, dark blue. It was the ocean. They had crash landed. It had to have been an EMP for them to crash land, a powerful one at that.
A crash behind her, and a call out. "Commander?" Footsteps, and finally a form appeared in front of her, a UNSC Marine without armor, uniform wet and a welding mask on his face. She looked up, and visibly, she could see him filled with relief. "We thought you were gone, ma'am. Medic! Get a corpsman in here!"
Morgan's speakers came to life, another rattling wheeze as she struggled to ask him what was on her mind more than anything. "What happened? Where's- where's the Chief?"
He looked back at her, confused. "Ma'am?"
"The Chief, and Cortana. They we-were in the hangar bay." Every word out of her mouth felt like it was going through a muzzle, and it took everything she had to get the words out.
The Marine looked back over her shoulder, likely at an incoming medic, before looking back to her. "The hangar is gone, ma'am. All we recovered was the front quarter and the bridge. The entire back half of the ship is… gone."
No. This wasn't happening. They had been through everything, had gotten to the finish line, had gotten out of harm's way finally. And what happened? She was the sole survivor again. She refused to believe it. Her hand came up, grasping at the Marine weakly, until she finally grabbed a hold of his fatigues. "Che-check again."
Despite her weakened state, she was manhandling him easily, pulling him closer. "Ma'am, we're searching now, but if they were in the hangar, they're-"
"Check again!" She nearly screamed it, and immediately went into a coughing fit, more blood spattering against her visor as she went through the helmet's systems. Getting to the squad roster, she saw it.
Spartan 117 read in bold letters on her HUD, showing nothing but the last vital signs that had been recorded. There was no transponder on his armor, not in range, and if he wasn't in range, then he was gone, just as the Marine had said.
She let go of the Marine, and her arm dropped limply into her lap, only held in the seat by the crash webbing. Her eyes began to burn, and tears started to fall out of them, trailing down her face and onto her chin. More footsteps rang in the bridge, several, but she didn't pay them any mind. Not when they were in front of her, not when several Marines and a pair of Elites extracted her from the crash webbing gently and got her onto a purple colored slab that was hovering in the air.
Her helmet was taken off, the blood running out and revealing a pale face to the Marines and Elites alike, covered in scars and bruises, the streaks of tears down a dirty face, and eyes that may as well have been empty. Quickly, the Marines hooked her up to the medical instruments on it, feeding IV drips and coagulants to her through the ports in her armor.
But none of it mattered to her. The Chief was gone. Cortana was gone. Yet she was still here. Still alive. What had she done to be stuck like this again? Why couldn't she have been the one to stay behind and let the Chief go on ahead. She was tired, more than she could ever remember being, and it didn't matter. She didn't have the strength to fight against the inevitable anymore. There was no air left in her lungs to scream at whatever God had punished her like this, to rail against the destiny that had been set in stone the instant she was conceived. Now, she was alone again, and it hit her like a sack of hammers.
Sunlight spilled across her face, but she didn't notice it. Her body was cold, so cold. The armor should have been keeping her warm, climate control systems must have been malfunctioning. Her teeth started to chatter without her realizing it, and one of the Marines looked down as a tablet in his hand beeped angrily. His mouth moved, but nothing came out of it. Looking at him, her green eyes asked questions that she no longer had the words for.
They seemed to pick up the pace, and she watched him, wondering why he seemed so animated all of a sudden. The interior of a Pelican's bay showed up, and several more Marines were waiting on board. A man in UNSC Navy fatigues rushed forward, immediately taking the tablet from the Marine and glancing over it, his skin paling even in the low light before the interior lights lit up.
Licking her lips, it did nothing to moisten them, no matter how hard she tried. Her mouth was dry too, but she still fought against it. "Doc-Doctor. I think my armor malfunctioned."
She didn't hear what he said, but he looked terrified for a moment. She realized she didn't hear anything at all, not even the sound of blood rushing through her ears, or the sound of her heartbeat. It was pure nothingness, and black started to tinge the rim of her vision, until once again, she blacked out.
Several times, her vision came back to her, each time with a different entourage of people and a different scene. First it was the Pelican's bay, then the sky, then the interior of a building, and finally, the stark white interior of what was likely a hospital. She had no way of telling how long it had been. Her armor was missing, though, and she could feel the restrictiveness of adhesive bandages and gauze on her body. Several needles were pricked through her skin, and the starchy feeling of a medical gown covered her.
Everything felt slow, sluggish, and her mouth was just as dry as ever. The sound of a cardiac monitor could be heard, and she turned as much as she could to look at it. It showed a heart rate, her heart rate, normal. A pair of IV stands stood waiting, one filled with the red color of blood, and the other, she had no idea. She was likely filled with pain killers, enough to put down an elephant, but she was alive.
Glancing down, she moved one hand up to pull the blanket up, revealing a hospital gown and the top of a line of bandages. An angry red color could be seen peeking out of the top, but whatever was underneath the bandages, she had no idea. Several blisters were healing as well.
Taking a deep breath, she felt a hint of pain make it through, and stopped, putting her head back down on the pillow and taking her time to rest. The sound of the heart rate monitor was all she knew for a time. She laid there for what seemed like hours, getting lost in the constant sound that beeped so rhythmically, until it was finally broken by a door opening.
She didn't lift her head or try to look around, waiting to see what happened. Eventually, whoever it was walked over to her, a doctor, clad in the white lab coat and all, but the eagle insignia on his collar made it clear he was a naval Captain. "Commander? I'm the Aegis Fate's surgeon. How are you feeling?"
Her green eyes shifted to look up at him. "Like I was hit by a truck."
Despite the situation, a hint of a smile made it onto the man's face. "I'm not surprised. We nearly lost you for good. Several times on the way here you flatlined, even almost bled out. You had… quite the list of injuries."
"Yeah, I- I bet." Her voice was hoarse. She licked her lips again. "Water."
"Just a second, Commander. I'll get you some." He started to turn, but a nurse had already shuffled into the room with some, likely already having it on hand just in case. "Here, we're gonna elevate your bed, alright?"
She didn't respond, the bed slowly elevating at the waist and leaving her until she was mostly sitting up, and she reached for the cup in his hand. Trying to take it, he didn't let go, instead letting her guide the cup to her mouth, and when she was finished, she let go and he pulled back. It felt better, having actual water again, but it was a small win against an even bigger loss.
"What happened?"
He seemed hesitant to answer, but eventually, he did. "You crash landed. The Dawn was cut in half just behind the bridge. Another dozen feet back and you would have been gone."
"And my injuries?"
"Two broken ribs, multiple third degree burns, collapsed lung, Just under three liters of blood in your chest cavity, and several more of your ribs were starting to fracture. Your heart was nicked at some point by a shard of bone that must have broken off when your rib broke. We've got you on an IV for blood and morphine, and you'll have to heal for a while. Your chest was stitched up after we went in to fix everything, so we can't get you out of bed."
She sat there for a moment, taking it all in. So she had very nearly bled to death then. "How long was I out?"
"About a week. We've been tending to other wounded from the battle around Voi and the Ark, but you were marked as priority one. Your armor was removed and packed into a box, a Master Gunnery Sergeant assigned to the Dawn signed for it."
A hint of a smile ghosted across her features. She'd never get her armor out of his hands for long, it seemed. It was wiped off by another cough, and she frowned instead. "When can I get up and move around?"
He didn't answer for a minute, thinking. "You can move now, but we'll need you to stay on this floor of the hospital, and not to try and do anything. Doctor's orders."
She was being ordered to take it easy. "Yes, sir."
The captain seemed to eyeball her, but finally relented. "Alright. Don't go far, and if anything starts bothering you, tell one of the nurses immediately. I'll be on hand if anything comes up."
He reached up, pulling back the blanket from her and detaching a few electrodes on her chest before he gave her the okay to move, helping her sit up and bring her legs out of bed. She started to rise, grunting, and fell back to the bed. He held on to her free hand, gently giving her the help she needed to get up. Given she was still over 250lbs, it was no easy feat to do it gently.
With the Spartan back on her feet, she already felt tired. "Thank you, Captain."
He nodded. "Just keep what I said in mind." With that, he turned and made his way out, glancing back at her as he stepped out, before disappearing around the corner.
The hospital gown went down to her knees, normally supposed to be longer, but she was a little tall for that. Taking hold of the IV stand in her right hand, she wheeled it along with her, stepping out into the hall slowly. It was like just after the augmentations all over again, learning to walk with baby steps until she was comfortable with her larger body. Now, it just felt like she was too full of pain killers and off her feet too long.
She wasn't sure where she really wanted to go, to be honest, but she knew she didn't want to lie in that bed forever. A Spartan was used to being on their feet, on the go, constantly. Even after so much had happened, she wanted to be up and about, not lying in a bed wasting away.
Taking a choice at random, she started walking down one of the halls, towards a window at the far end. Arriving at the window, she looked out over the hills that rolled on, at the small buildings around them, at the remains of the New Mombasa Space Elevator littering the ground in bits and pieces in the distance.
She sighed softly, putting her hand up to the glass, and staring, looking out at the things that she had helped save. Humanity would rebuild, with or without her, but with no war to fight, what was the point of coming back alive?
Morgan realized she didn't know.
Three months had passed since the Battle of Installation 00, the Ark. The dead had been tallied and the names gathered, from all the battles of the war. UNSC uniforms were a sea of whites, blacks, and grays, standing before the monument erected on the Voi hillside. The form of a Pelican dropship's wing had been set on a pedestal, held up by several cords anchoring it in place.
Pictures of the fallen, such as Commander Miranda Keyes, Sergeant Major Avery Johnson, Gunnery Sergeant Pete Reynolds, and more covered the surface, filling most of the memorial's space, and leaving behind the inscription in the center. Flowers, boots, rifles stacked up, and helmets filled the space at the foot of the memorial.
Morgan-B312 stood in a UNSC Navy white dress uniform, bereft of medals or anything other than a rank insignia on her collar, peaked cap on a head only now returning to anywhere near its previous length after being shaved to nothing during the final hours of the war. Her skin had taken on a hint of color, her armor having never been put back on with no more need for a Spartan. The bruises on her face had healed, and the cuts and scrapes had followed, but she had a few new scars on her body, the most recent of which being the one of her chest, running from her collar bone, down between her breasts, and to just above her naval. It still itched from time to time. Her eyes were tired and empty, and she committed the scene in front of her to memory.
She was close to the front row, a Master Gunnery Sergeant in Marine gray and a Master Sergeant in the black of an ODST stood on either side of her, their own peaked caps on their heads, both standing a head shorter than the big woman. The field was silent, save for the blowing of the wind and the reading of the names of the fallen.
It had been going for some time, but nobody had made a sound, all of them soaking in each and every name that had been given in the 28 years of warfare that had plagued Humanity. The civilians would be named in larger memorials that would be held over time, but the Voi Memorial was dedicated to those who had given their lives in service to the defense of Humanity. Morgan had felt the impact of all of them, but most noticeably the deaths of Johnson, of Keyes, of Reynolds. She knew them. They were her friends. They were all another hole in her soul.
Her tears had long since dried up, and now the only thing that was left was the finality of their names. Both read and otherwise. Too many were left out, ONI protective protocols in place to prevent Spartan casualties being listed as KIA, trying to make them be every bit of the mythological soldiers that the IIs had made them out to be over the years. As far as most people knew, she was just another Spartan II. Her brothers and sisters in Noble would never be known as IIIs, and it made her sad. Their names wouldn't be known for some time. Who knew when the existence of the IIIs would be told outright, or when their sacrifices would be given the credit they deserved.
Cool metal against her skin brought her back to the present. Under the dress uniform, she still wore their tags, Jorge and Emile's, along with her own, but she kept her hands at her sides. The air smelled different without her armor filtering it constantly. It was the longest she had been without Mjolnir since she was first given her Mark IV armor set, several years before.
The drone of the voice on the stage finally ended, and the naval Lieutenant reading it off saluted, before dropping it and stepping off stage, melting back into the crowd. Fleet Admiral Sir Terrence Hood took his place, and wordlessly, he removed his hat, placing it across his chest.
"For us, the storm has passed. The war is over. But let us never forget those who journeyed into the howling dark and did not return. For their decision required courage beyond measure, sacrifice, and unshakable conviction that their fight, our fight, was elsewhere."
Morgan grit her teeth as she listened, feeling old wounds reopen in her mind. She closed her eyes, letting her hearing guide her through the rest of the speech, and she saw all of them again, apparitions that existed only in her memories now.
"As we start to rebuild, this hillside will remain barren, a memorial to heroes fallen. They ennobled all of us, and they shall not be forgotten."
She opened her eyes again, watching the Admiral put his hat back on and saluting. Hundreds of servicemen and women did the same, and held the position as a master at arms commanded seven Marines to ready their weapons. Morgan's hand touched the brim of her peaked cap as the command to fire was given. Seven guns fired once, twice, and again, a final salute to send off those that had given their lives with those same weapons in hand, to keep the howling dark at bay, protecting their families, their worlds, and their race against whatever might lay in that darkness.
The salutes were dropped only when the final echo of the last shot had been stolen by the wind, and the Admiral left the stage. The crowd began to disperse, the somber mood hanging in the air even while they dwindled until there were only a few left. The Master Gunnery Sergeant to Morgan's left touched her arm, and she looked over at him. They hadn't spoken much since the end of the war, but he had been the one to get her tags from the hospital when he had come for her armor, as well as the others. He had nearly fought to get them back for her, and for that, he had her thanks. Her hand came up, resting against his own, and he squeezed her arm lightly before he turned and followed the crowd.
The other didn't touch her, but she turned to him next. Master Sergeant Marcus Stacker, newly promoted, looked up to see the woman under the brim of the cap. "What are your plans now, ma'am?"
Her smile faded, and her eyes seemed to go to some far off place. "I don't really know, honestly. There's no more wars for me to fight."
Stacker frowned as well. "You're not staying in?"
She shrugged. "I don't know yet. I think… I think I've had enough war for one life time."
He nodded, as if understanding. "You got any family to go home to? Anything waiting for you?"
Her smile returned, but it was sad this time, empty. "Not anymore. Covenant got them a while back. I don't really remember them all that much anymore."
Stacker winced, and he finally put his hand on her shoulder. "Guess it's time for you to find something else then, huh? Start one of your own, maybe?"
That got a chuckle out of her. "Maybe, Sarge. We'll see where things take me. If it doesn't work out, I can always come back and pester you some more, huh?"
He laughed, but kept it quiet. "There's always room in my squad for you, Commander. I'd fight with you any day. Another war kicks off anytime soon, I'll come get you myself. Sound good?"
"It's a date, Marcus."
"Good. Take care of yourself, Morgan, and don't be a stranger." Patting her shoulder, he stepped off, and Morgan didn't watch him go. Her eyes settled on the memorial again, and she heard more footsteps coming from behind.
"What's this I hear about dates?"
The southern drawl that came out of thin air was behind her, and she turned at the waist to see who it was. Another woman, tall and with tanned skin and a smile full of pearly white teeth stepped closer. Golden-brown hair was kept in a tight bun, but a few strands of hair managed to escape from it, but Morgan wasn't paying attention to that, merely happy to see the woman.
"Hocus, I thought I'd gotten rid of you." Her smile was in place again, a hint of teasing in her words.
"Call me Amber, Commander, I'm not in the bird anymore. Not yet, at least."
"Morgan, then. Still gonna hound me for that drink?"
Hocus winked, doing a finger gun motion at the Spartan. "You got it. Thought I forgot, huh?"
Morgan snorted, shaking her head. "I'd never forget it. You're buying though. Give me a little bit?"
"Yes'm, just meet me at the O Club after you're done here. I'll be waiting." Sketching a mock salute with her right hand, Hocus gave Morgan another smile and turned about, heading back down the hill to the nearby town. Most of Voi had been spared from the glassing, but the Tsavo region hadn't. Even from here, she could see the edge of the glasslands, and frowned, but that was beyond her control.
Instead, she started for the memorial. The Arbiter was there already, having stayed mostly out of sight during the memorial ceremony. He broke away from Hood, moving for Morgan, and he craned his head down in a nod, one that Morgan returned, before she stepped past and stood next to the Admiral. By now, they were all that was left.
"Sir," she announced, moving to salute, but he waved her off.
"No more of that, Commander. You've done enough of those." She frowned again, but did as she was told. It wasn't expected, but it must not have mattered. "I had expected you to disappear after the ceremony," he said, looking up at her.
"I wanted to stay a little longer, etch it into my memory. At least this will be a proper recognition of it all, rather than the nightmares it's left me with."
"That's why it's here, Morgan. So they still exist outside of our memories, so their contribution is never forgotten."
"Yes, sir." It was true. They all existed in her memories, in her thoughts, but with this memorial being erected her as a monument to them, the rest of Humanity would know them too, through those that had survived.
"It's hard to believe he's gone, isn't it?" He asked, his eyes once more on the monument. None of the Spartans had pictures or identifying imagery on the monument for obvious reasons, but she knew who he was talking about.
"It is, but there were plenty of us that didn't make it out the other side. It's just as hard with any of us. I have some tags, but… not his." Her hand came up, resting against the tags through her uniform tunic and undershirt.
Hood was silent for a time, until he gave a deep sigh. She could hazard a guess as to what it was, but she would never truly know. "I've got one more mission for you, Commander."
"Sir?"
"Live for the rest of them, for those that didn't make it. You survived for a reason, and now it's up to you to make the most of it. They're shrouded in so much black ink that both of us will probably be dead and gone of old age by the time it's declassified entirely. Until then, you've got to keep them alive, in your heart, in your mind. Can you do that for me?"
He looked back up at her, the question in his eyes. Her mouth parted slightly, and she struggled to comprehend it, until a few moments later, when it all clicked into place. "Yes, sir. Consider it done."
"Good, see to it that it gets done, I look forward to your report." The stress lines around his face were deep, forever marring his visage, but a smile managed to shine through it. He held his hand out, and she took it, the two shaking hands before he broke off. "Good luck, Morgan, and have a good life."
"I will, sir." She said the words, but inside, she didn't know if she could do that. It was a mission with no briefing, no handbook, she was never trained for it, but she was a Spartan, and she would make due.
Turning back to the memorial as Hood walked away, she looked at the photos closely, committing each one to memory. Stepping closer, up onto the platform, she looked over those closest, at Johnson's picture, Miranda's, Reynolds', and finally something caught her eye.
Hidden within several pictures, there was a space where a number had been etched into the metal, the paint scraped away and the metal scratched forever. The number 117 was scrawled in crude lines, as if someone had done it in secret, and the insignia of a Master Chief Petty Officer was taped on, hidden beneath a few other photos. It would be seen, one day, but for now, it would be enough.
A smile, a genuine smile, came to her face as she realized that at least one of them would be recognized with the rest. Putting her hand to it, she closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the metal after soaking in the light of the sun. She said something in her mind that she would never tell another soul, something she would take to her grave, be it tomorrow or in a hundred years, and stepped away from the memorial, leaving it alone in the setting sun that officially ended the Human-Covenant War after 28 long years, and with it, Morgan-B312 left to accomplish her final mission.
She would live a good life, as good as she could. For Kat. For Carter. For Jorge. For Emile. For John. For Cortana. For Keyes. For Johnson. Their names would forever be in her heart and her mind, her friends and family.
Lost, but not forgotten.
Here we are, the final chapter of the main story that I've been writing for… I think a year at this point. I started A Noble Cause around this time last year, and now it's basically all completed. I hope you guys have enjoyed the ride and thanks for your support while it all came tumbling out. I never expected it to be as popular as it is, and it fills my heart with joy that so many of you fell in love with reading it like I did with writing it. If you're finished and want a nice little conclusion a la Halo 3, then you can stop here. But there's an epilogue on the way, to really close it all out. No promises, but I might make a collection of one shots for things that weren't seen during the actual story, my first idea being the little meeting between Hocus and Morgan I've been teasing at since Chapter 2. We'll see where the Muse takes me. Until next time, see you guys around.