LEVIATHAN – Written by Mazda 787B on SpaceBattles
It was a subtle shift in the air.
The scent of salt and brine undercutting the wet earth and rotting deadfall as it wafted into Crytovus's nostrils. The brute chieftain tightened the grip on his hammer and scanned the surrounding riverbank.
The humans were nowhere to be found.
He paused.
Something was wrong, and he didn't know what.
The subtle shift in his mood did little to dissuade his overzealous Sangheili companions as they barked orders to their Uggnoy underlings before continuing onward without a second thought.
On instinct, Crytovus looked behind him. He turned around, scanning in his surroundings as he breathed deeply, but he was limited in the dark as to what he could see. He would need to rely on his other senses to catch wind of any human trickery.
But he could not see or hear anything out of place. No hushed whispers were being carried through the wind alongside the gentle and ceaseless sound of trickling water. No signs of human shoeprints stamped into the wet earth oozing between his toes. No pungent odor of humans assaulting his nostrils.
They were not here, but the churning sensation in his squirming stomach as it twisted itself into knots didn't lie. They had walked into the kill zone of a trap… and he didn't know what kind of trap it was, either.
Human marksman hiding in the treeline? An array of landmines and rigged traps? A Demon?
His imagination did little to help calm his frayed nerves, but Crytovus could not help it.
This was the exact sort of spot the humans would spring an ambush. He had seen similar occurrences before, and most importantly survived them all.
His gaze turned to meet the Uggnoy fodder slithering down the short riverbank. He narrowed his eyes. Perhaps it was a trick of the light or even a mirage-
The scent of salt and brine scratched at his throat.
A three-toed foot of a lowly Uggnoy brushed against the inky black water.
The calm waters shifted.
A scream reverberated across the riverbank.
And then silence.
He frantically scanned the riverbank with his eyes.
The Uggnoy had vanished without a trace.
Crytovus's grip on his hammer tightened in tandem with the panic gripping his chest.
The grasses at the opposite end of the bank stood ramrod straight in tandem with the fur on the back of his neck.
Another scream rang out.
A Sangheili minor thrashed about in the chilling waters.
Another Sangheili rushed to his aid.
The water level rose.
All sense of cohesion and order was gone as the gaping maw of the riverbank swallowed up any panicked survivors it could catch whole.
The sound of wheeling and cawing rang in his ears along with the screams as he turned to flee.
He did not have any direction or goal in mind apart from keeping his distance from the alien devilry that had ensnared the others.
The feeling of powerlessness was something that he was unused to. Most problems faced in his service to the Covenant could be solved with cunning and might. The humans were a deadly and deceitful foe, but he understood their reasonings. Their motivations. In a war of annihilation, what species would allow itself to lay down and die?
The humans made sense.
This sorcery did not.
Crytovus ran until his lungs burned as if he huffed a methane tank and his legs felt like leaden weights, and then he ran further.
Into a copse of trees, he ran, the brambles and foliage leaving their marks on his fur as it became matted with sweat and grime. The accursed scent of salt and brine never left his nostrils as he cursed the humans and their heretical deeds.
And then he saw it again. The trick of the light. The blur.
The blood boiled in his veins as he readied his hammer, his weight shifting on the uneven and pitted ground as a cool breeze caressed him.
Pain.
The copper taste of blood filled his mouth.
Falling to his knees, he could see an ornate handle wreathed in gold and black jut from his stomach. The wound immediately started to go numb.
A dark hand, wreathed with the same opulence as the weapon of his demise, grasped the handle and tugged violently. A pained groan escaped Crytovus's lips as he stared upward.
Its eyeless, accusatory gaze rested upon him.
His legs immediately started to go numb. The water was frigid.
Oh so frigid.
Crytovus breathed shallowly as he slowly began to sink. His limbs refused to obey his commands as dark spots danced in his vision and the world around him began to spin.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Crytovus's blood pounded in his ears. Reaching out with his right arm, he begged for alms. For clemency.
The masked figure stared silently.
Tiredness crushed him like a falling rockslide. The water continued to tug at his limbs as his eyes involuntarily sagged.
He writhed. Screamed. Begged.
But there was no mercy. Not for the likes of him. He who would slaughter the innocent under the banner of the false gods. He who would murder thousands out of a misguided sense of duty. He who gorged himself off the flesh of the innocent.
The figure was his judge, jury, and executioner.
His verdict?
Guilty.
Something tugged at his submerged legs and turned his muscles to putty.
The last of his air escaped as bubbles as he choked in the ceaseless black.
Panic.
Crytovus spluttered as he reflexively inhaled, and cold water shot up his nose. The burning in his lungs as they tried in desperation to get oxygen was the only thing keeping him away from answering to the siren call of eternal sleep.
His resistance hardly mattered.
He could not tell which way was up. There was no frame of reference. No landmarks. Only a windless embrace…
And the company of his allies.
Their faces contorted into looks of terror as they floated aimlessly in the empty void.
Ringing in his head. Pounding in his lungs. He could see them turn to face him.
They gaze.
Accuse.
Deny.
His muscles, weak and frantic as they were, still spasmed as instincts fought to keep him alive. It was a pointless gesture. Crytovus knew his end had finally come, but he was too stubborn to ever admit such. Not while he still drew breath.
He refused to be a sodden, bloated corpse. He refused to die such an undignified death.
The blazing fire in his chest waned as the thunderous ringing continued unabated. Pounding in his ears, in his heart, smothering all else.
Water rushed down his throat once more. His lungs had given up.
The drowned moved aside as something unfathomable surged forth. Unseen. But he could feel the insatiable, gnawing hunger emanating from the beast. It would not be satisfied until it consumed his flesh and bone.
He closed his eyes.
Fading. Ringing. Blackness. Sinking. Water. Choking. Drowning.
And Crytovus met his god.
-O-
WINGED SAVIOR – Written by deadblue on SpaceBattles
Debriefing Room
UNSC Carrier Forward Path
1943 Hours Local Time
3rd May 2551
Lieutenant Kazinski shifted nervously in his seat. Not long after he had touched down back at base, there was a welcoming committee waiting for him on the runway courtesy of the spooks from ONI. It had been over half an hour since his guards had escorted him into this room and relieved him of his weapon, and that was the worst part. The waiting. The anticipation for something to happen. At least they hadn't cuffed him when they brought him in.
Before his brain could think itself into a frenzy, the only door to the room finally creaked open, admitting an average looking man inside. What made him truly dangerous was the uniform he wore. Even among pilots, the Office of Naval Intelligence was something everyone would do their damndest to avoid catching the attention of. Rumors of pilots catching their attention only to vanish without a trace as they were 'transferred' to whatever black ops projects the spooks had cooked up were plentiful, and right now Kazinski was hoping they stayed as rumors.
"At ease, Flight Lieutenant," the spook told Kazinski as he took a seat opposite him. "I'm Lieutenant Brewers. You know where I'm from, so I'll skip the pleasantries. This is more about what you saw today during your flight. We got excerpts from your flight recorder that we'd like some clarification for."
"What's there to clarify?" Kazinski asked nervously. After what he'd seen, he did not want to be on the wrong end of that weapon that lady… Thing, whatever it was, had used. ONI making him disappear was one thing, getting blown up by and oversized cannon that looked more a handheld AA turret that could blast a Covie Phantom from the sky was another.
"Lieutenant, we just want your side of the story. Flight recorders are one thing, but sometimes we could really use context for what exactly just happened," continued the ONI agent as he set down a recorder and microphone. "We're not going to make you and your entire flight crew vanish for seeing something you shouldn't have. Contrary to popular belief, ONI doesn't work like that."
Of course, Kazinski knew that was a lie, but why aggravate the man that could act on that threat? Before he could horribly slip up, however, the agent slowly slid a datapad across the table to Kazinski. "In truth, any of my superiors would have recommended we use any number of drugs from the start, but I want you to work with me here," Brewers explained. "Once you tell your side of the story, you and your flight crew are free to go and forget this discussion ever happened between the two of us."
"… Fine," Kazinski replied after a long pause, slumping his shoulders. "What do you want to know?"
"At approximately 1424 hours local time, you and your flight crew were tasked with the evacuation of the local civilian population of Meridian alongside Lieutenant Jones, am I correct?" Brewer asked, scrolling through the information on the datapad.
"Correct."
"Your escort of Hornets were intercepted and destroyed by a passing Covenant Banshee squadron, is that also true?"
"Yes."
"Then tell me Lieutenant, what happened next?"
—-
Meridian Airspace
1424 Hours Local Time
3rd May 2551
"Mayday! Mayday! This Drawbridge 36! We are under attack from Covenant Banshees! Requesting air cover!" Kazinski shouted over the radio, the screams of Lt. Chun still haunting him as his Hornet was torn to pieces under the merciless fire of the Covenant Banshees as he tried to mount a futile defense for the evacuation ships. Already the refugees inside the hold were screaming in terror as he jinked hard to the right as a stream of plasma bolts burned and melted through the armor on his bird.
"Negative Drawbridge 36, all available air assets are occupied with Covenant forces. Your escorts are all we can spare"
"Sir, our escorts are dead and we got Banshees on our tail! Our hold is full of civilians and Drawbridge 32 can't hold out much longer!" Kazinski protested, Min's own bird trailing smoke from her engines as plasma fire continued to ravage his bird despite his best efforts visible from the corner of his vision.
"Can't… Hold… Smoke everywhere…" Min's distorted voice over the radio was the only sign his aircraft was still alive and in the fight, even as it swayed unsteadily in the air.
"I'm sorry Drawbridge 36, but we don't have anyone to throw your way. You'll have to make do with what you have. Godspeed Kazinski." And with that, the radio went dead.
"God damn it!" Kazinski exclaimed, pounding the wall of his bird.
"Sir, did Command just tell us we're fucked?" his flight assistant Lt. Jr Grade Wilkins asked nervously as he tried his best to maintain a level of composure.
"Seems like it, Wilkins… Rest of the flyboys are too busy with the the Covenant in the local airspace. Chun's flight was the best they could scramble for the evacuation."
"Well what do we do now?"
"Strap in and do our best to get these civvies out of the shitter come hell or high water," Kazinski replied, feeling an eerie calm settling over him as he realized his own impending death. "You with me, Wilkins?"
"All the way, sir."
"Then strap in. It's going to get a lot bumpier." With that, Kazinski put his bird into a hard dive, right in the nick of time as a stream of plasma bolts narrowly missed him.
"Strap in tight people! We're going to do our best to get you out of here!" Wilkins shouted to the passenger bay as Kazinski dodged and weaved to the best of his ability with a hold full of terrified civilians.
Then they heard an explosion. Out of the corner of his eye, Kazinski could see the distinct shape of a Banshee as it tumbled and crashed into the ground below as it burned. "Did anyone catch sight of that?" He barked over the radio as another explosion could be heard.
"No luck- Wait! I think I see something!" Wilkins called in before adjusting the sensors on his panel. "Is that a…."
—-
"So you saw what looked like an armored human being that was flying?" Brewers asked in disbelief.
"The logs and the recorder didn't lie sir. I was there and I couldn't believe my eyes either. It had these massive engines connected to it when she first appeared. And the way it handled in the air… It almost seemed like the laws of physics didn't seem to affect her at all."
Brewer paused his questioning for a moment as he went through the logs and viewed the recording of said events, and after a moment to compose his thoughts, waved to the lieutenant. "Proceed."
—-
"What the hell was that?" Kazinski asked as a grey and gold blur zipped past his canopy.
"No idea, man! Sensors didn't pick it up until it was right on top of us!" Wilkins replied. "But whoever they are, seems like they don't like the Covenant either!" As if to prove Wilkins' point, their unlikely savior suddenly did an about face mid-air before flying in the opposite direction. There, Kazinski could see the absolutely massive cannon in its arms, something that would look more at home mounted on an old wooden navy ship of Earth's pre-spaceflight history than here.
Taking aim, a resounding boom echoed through the air as a spray of lead impacted into another Banshee, utterly destroying it. Then in a fit of madness, it seemingly detached itself from its flight unit yet seemed to float mid-air as if flipping the bird to Newton's Laws. As it floated there, it made a cutting gesture with its arm and a brief wave of pressure shook their bird.
"Holy shit! Did that thing just cut a Banshee in half by waving its arm?"
—-
"So let me confirm this: an unknown unit appeared out of the blue and saved you and your evacuation ships, could keep up and out-maneuver Banshees and Seraphs, carried a man portable flak cannon and seemingly cut a Banshee in half with a wave of its hand?" Brewer asked with just a hint of sarcasm.
"The logs don't lie, sir, and Wilkins can certainly back me up. I know what I saw there and… I keep wondering if I was hallucinating too," Kazinski remarked, his posture now far slacker and almost sliding off the chair. "Heck, the rest of the evacuation convoy would tell you the same thing."
"Very well…" Brewers groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And then what did your savior do after that?"
—-
Kazinski was rooted to his seat, torn between terror and wonder as the thing that effortlessly tore through the Covenant ships attacking their convoy was now outside his canopy knocking on the windscreen. Shakily, he turned his head and got his first clear view on their savior: A black, grey and gold figure, its body covered in bird-like motifs, and with an eyeless helmet that still seemed to be focused directly on him… And cheerfully waving one hand in greeting.
Shakily, Kazinski raised his hand and returned the gesture with a weak wave of his own. Seemingly satisfied with his reply, the figure gave him a thumbs up before pulling away, its shape quickly becoming little more than a dot in the horizon before vanishing completely.
—-
"… Very well… I think that about settles the questions we had," Brewers finally relented as he rose from his seat. "Everything spoken inside this room remains here, lieutenant. Is that clear?"
"Yes sir," Kazinski replied, rising from his seat and giving Brewers a quick salute. However, just as he made to leave the room, he heard the agent call out to him again.
"One more thing, Flight Lieutenant. Did you see the markings your savior left on your craft?"
"Mark?... No, sir."
Without another word, Brewers took hold of the datapad once more and calmly scrolled through it until he seemed to reach whatever he wished to show, then turned the pad back for Kazinski to see. "It would seem your erstwhile savior left a small parting gift on your craft before they departed. Do you have any idea what that means?"
Curiosity building, Kazinski stepped back into the room, took the pad onto his hand and looked at the picture of the side of his transport liner. And indeed, right behind the canopy window of the cockpit, a strange metallic image had been painted on: a stylized, purple flower.
"… No sir. I haven't the slightest idea."
-O-
DELIVERANCE – Written by Mazda 787B on SpaceBattles
2105 HOURS, NOVEMBER 3, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ ZETA DORADUS SYSTEM, ORBIT NEAR THE MOON OF ONYX \ ABOARD UNSC PROWLER DUSK
In an act of pure desperation, Commander Richard Lash had made a bargain with the devil.
His stomach churned and tied itself into knots as the dawning realization of what he had done had struck him. It wasn't a fever dream or a stress-induced hallucination; he could distinctly feel the numbing sensation seeping between the callouses and dried skin on his right hand as he propelled himself in the null gee of the bridge tube.
There had been no price mentioned. No strings attached. The deal had been too good to be true.
And he stared him right in his milky white eyes… and shook on it.
The Cheshire grin of the monster wearing his skin would forever haunt him in the waking world and his dreams.
The price, no matter its cost, would never be as high as the one they were currently paying.
Sucking in a deep breath, Commander Richard Lash opened the hatch to the prowler's bridge and stepped inside. He could only hope that he would find forgiveness for his actions. In this life or the next.
—
No one commented on the haunted look in his exhausted eyes or the sheen of sweat that clung to his forehead as he brushed a hand against his thinning hair. It was rather unbecoming of a superior officer to appear in such a ragged state, but there were far more pressing concerns at stake, and Lash's fraying nerves were a necessary but unfortunate casualty.
"Report," he said to Lieutenant Commander Waters.
Waters looked up with bloodshot eyes from his display. "The Admiral has been informed mission accomplished, sir. He's moving the fleet to new coordinates, a high orbit on the bright side of the moon."
Lash grimaced while he examined the system NAV map. Under normal circumstances, attacking a Covenant battlegroup sixteen ships strong with only four of their own would be considered suicide. The fleet of thirty-two ships that would arrive in the system shortly after would only put the final nails in their collective coffins.
But this insurance policy would change that.
He couldn't tell them about the deal, the four-word mantra that echoed through his skull, or the foreknowledge of the shitstorm that was about to arrive on their doorstep without having a mutiny on his hands. No, the best course of action was to buckle up-
And wait.
The line between sanity and madness had already been erased, and he wasn't sure that anyone would ever be able to redraw it again.
"Sir?" Lieutenant Durruno gave him a pointed look.
Lash didn't need to infer much to understand the elephant in the room. He needed sleep. They all did. But they needed to hold out for a bit longer. Commander Lash settled into the captain's chair before giving a silent nod.
Durruno rubbed at the bags under her eyes before turning her attention back to her station.
"Lieutenant Yang, status?"
"As dark as midnight under a rock, sir."
Lash tapped his fingers against the armrest, the phantom tingling in his right hand being a constant reminder of what he had just done. For what he was about to do.
"Covenant fleet on-screen," Lash ordered Waters. It was a pointless gesture, but keeping appearances was tantamount to his plan's success. "Rescan and give me a full spectral analysis."
"All sensors on target," Waters replied.
Rainbows played over the central viewscreen, building composite images from far infrared to soft gamma radiation, and fourteen Covenant ships resolved, clustered together in a spherical formation three hundred thousand kilometers distant.
In another life, they looked like hungry sharks in Lash's eyes, ready to pounce on a few sardines. In this one? They were nothing more than fish bait. Lash shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling his legs bounce in anticipation while his insides quivered.
Thermal blooms and radiation leaks spewed in helical showers from the vessels as data from the spectral analysis trickled in. They'd been damaged by Admiral Patterson's alpha strike and the captured plasma redirected by the alien drones.
The enemy was sitting there, making repairs, and in all likelihood frothing from their split mouths to get back in the fight and go another round with the UNSC battle group.
Patterson, however, had another plan: hit them first. Hard.
He was more than happy to oblige.
"Activity from Onyx on the E-Band?" Lash asked Yang.
"No, sir. Not a flicker since that ONI AI took care of the alien drones."
'Sentinels.' Lash thought, a brief surge of pain lancing through his forehead. Relics of a bygone era. The Covenant slobbered on the ground that these 'Forerunners' walked on with a reverence that would put even the most zealous of human religious fanatics to shame.
They would understand.
They would be reminded of who their gods are.
Lash continued to tap his right hand's fingers against the leather armrest.
"Continue to monitor all UNSC bands," he told Yang. "Those Spartans might need a lift."
"Action on-screen," Waters announced. The camera snapped aft and centered on the silver moon.
In the twilight regions on either side of the moon, magnetic accelerator cannons flared, briefly illuminating the now-split UNSC battle group in high orbit. Slugs of steel and tungsten rocketed into space, curving slightly from the gravitational distortion—streaking toward the Covenant ships.
The Covenant ships broke formation.
One MAC slug veered off course.
Commander Lash tapped the leather armrest three times with his middle and pointer finger.
The MAC round found its mark.
Three more curved and followed the same trajectory.
"Jesus tap-dancing Christ!" Lieutenant Yang's eyes widened in shock.
The CCS class battlecruiser's shields lit as it attempted to absorb the massive kinetic energy. It careened backward, slowed… and came apart at the seams. The nanolaminate armor splintered into fragments as the remains of the vessel belched purple flame and mixed with the venting oxygen and bodies of the doomed crew.
Commander Lash smiled.
"Th- the Covenant ships are turning and burning towards the moon!" Yang cried out.
The MAC salvo had gone above and beyond Admiral Patterson's expectations: they had put the fear of God into them. The UNSC battle group maneuvered behind the moon, denying the enemy a clear line of fire.
"Set EMP dampers," Lash said, trying to control his rising adrenaline. "Shut down primary and secondary computers."
"...Aye, sir," Durruno and Yang said together. They scrambled to isolate the Dusk's delicate electronics from the impending nuclear blasts. Before his deal, Commander Lash had supervised the release of sixteen nuclear mines in preparation for the trap they had planned for the damaged Covenant battlegroup.
It would have been enough… but he knew better now. It was perhaps why he had made the deal in the first place. The loss of hope. The lives of his brothers and sisters in arms ended in a show of senseless cruelty. The taste of despair on his lips as his crew was forced to watch and do nothing.
Choosing between power and helplessness had been easy.
The weakened Covenant battle group divided just as he had foreseen—each half moving to opposite sides of the moon, taking flanking positions where they could blast the hiding human ships into oblivion with their plasma.
What they couldn't see on their approach vector, however, was Admiral Patterson's fleet backing directly away from the moon.
"Enemy vessels approaching distal radius of alpha and beta minefields," Durruno reported.
"Arm alpha and beta fields," Lash barked.
Yang fidgeted and said, "Command sent, sir . . . and confirmation received across the board."
That Covenant fleet was about to find out why UNSC battle groups always had a prowler assigned to their ranks. They were the sneak thieves and spies of the UNSC fleet, capable of behind-enemy-lines recon, rescue missions . . . and under the right conditions, the pinpoint placement of a nuclear minefield.
The split chins would never see it coming.
"Proximal enemy group now in the center of alpha field," Durruno announced, her hands shaking. "Distal group crossing the terminal line of beta field."
"Remove safety interlocks," Lash commanded.
Yang nodded and typed in the code words that made the sixteen nukes hot.
'All of this window dressing and red tape for a bunch of firecrackers.' Lash thought, biting back a sigh before it escaped his lips. The red "inferno" button on the command console in front of him lit. He set his thumb next to it, and it beeped, verifying his biometric signature.
He then flipped up the clear protective cover, inserted the master key in the adjacent slot, and turned it.
"Proximal group approaching terminal plane," Durruno said. "Beta group of ships now centered in distal field."
Commander Lash pressed the button.
The numbness in his fingers intensified.
On either side of the moon, eight tiny suns flashed into existence, ballooned, and enveloped the Covenant battle groups.
The collective nuclear fireballs cooled to yellow and then dull red. Even with vacuum-enhanced loads, nuclear warheads in space did not persist a fraction as long as aerial or ground bursts. It was a design flaw that had persisted despite the best efforts of the UNSC RND division and the looming threat of the unstoppable juggernaut that was the Covenant.
Under normal circumstances, it would be a given that at least a few ships would have survived the blast. Covenant vessels often mirrored the traits of the crew that manned them. Steadfast. Unrelenting. Resilient.
But what was an ant to a boot? A split chin freak to the Devil himself?
"Sir! You- you're going to need to look at this!" Yang shouted.
"Here goes nothing," Lash whispered as he grasped onto the handles of his seat with clammy hands and pushed himself upward. "Here goes everything."
Durruno followed in lockstep behind him as they trudged towards Yang's station.
"-Doesn't make any sense!" Yang muttered.
The clang of boots on metal reverberated through the bridge.
"-nothing on the scopes. No power profile!" Yang's face had turned pallid; his watering eyes blinking rapidly while a rapid staccato of keystrokes drowned out the rest of the word soup vomiting from the poor Lieutenant's mouth.
Commander Lash side-eyed the SENSOR-OPS station.
There was nothing on the scopes.
Even at the worst of times, UNSC technology was known to be dependable: the survival of the human race depended on quality and quantity to shore up its glaring weaknesses and build upon its strengths. It was unheard of for top-of-the-line equipment to cease functioning altogether.
A punctuated gasp brought Lash out of his thoughts. He turned-
And jammed his hands into his armpits.
A color you have never seen. Imagine it. That is where you are.
Lash imagined that a hundred years in the future historians might look back at this moment and declare it the turning point of humanity's struggle. That they had fought and defeated the Covenant at Onyx, won the prize of alien technology, and gone on—not only to survive, but to win their long struggle.
Staring into the glittering haze of cooling metal and unearthly hues, Commander Richard Lash could instead only see one possible future.
"...Something's out there Sir," Yang croaked. "Watching us."
—
2105 HOURS, NOVEMBER 3, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ ZETA DORADUS SYSTEM, ORBIT NEAR THE MOON OF ONYX \ ABOARD UNSC CARRIER STALINGRAD
The hairs on the back of Admiral Carl Patterson's neck stood to attention at the baffling sight before him. Everyone had played their part, and the plan had been followed to the letter. It shouldn't have mattered how victory was achieved against their enemy.
So why did this feel all wrong?
Patterson was not one to be ruled by his emotions; his direct frontal-assault style battle plans demanded peak performance and focus. In the heat of battle, on the knife-edge of death, he could always count on his fear to heighten his senses and awareness to an uncanny degree.
And right now, that fear was prickling at his scalp and causing a shiver to tingle down his spine rather than help him to express this anomaly. Few words could describe the yawing vortex that was currently splintering and bending the light around it into its gaping maw. A storm. A bleeding wound. A mouth.
It was all of them.
"Status report!" Patterson barked before pressing his lips together in a slight grimace.
His misgivings of the devilry at work here would need to be set aside. His duties to Earth and all of her colonies came first. They could not afford to cede the alien secrets and technology to the Covenant. Humanity's survival depended on it.
"Sir, the Covenant presence has been effectively wiped out! Nothing is showing on our scopes!"
"Spectral analysis can't identify any information on the anomaly, Sir!"
"All weapon and core systems are nominal and all ships are reporting in, Sir!"
Admiral Patterson ignored the sinking feeling in his body and turned his gaze towards his crew. "Get us near the orbit of the planet. We will need to maintain our presence- "
"Energy spike! Power profile indicative of a slipspace field! A big one!"
"Isolate that signature!" Patterson adjusted the cuffs of his uniform. "And get to battle stations! We're not out of the woods yet!"
"Deconvoluting signature. Location is… everywhere!" A voice shouted from his left.
The space around the UNSC fleet rippled and blue lines appeared, connected, and intertwined like waves of sapphire water. Slipspace fields ruptured normal dimensions and Cherenkov radiation dazzled the night—as dozens of Covenant destroyers, carriers, and cruisers appeared, swarms of them formed a phalanx between Patterson's battle group, blotted out the starlight, and smothered Battlegroup Stalingrad in shadow.
Everyone on the bridge froze at their stations, eyes wide with terror.
The Covenant armada fired.
Spotlight energy projectors flashed, and pure white light cleaved the dark.
…
The tendons on the back of Patterson's neck visibly pulsed.
How were they still alive?
The enemy had them dead to rights-
"Who waits for the shadow?"
'What?' Patterson shook himself back into focus. "Action on-screen!"
The Covenant fleet snapped on the central screen, fangs barred but otherwise inert alongside the traces of luminosity from their armaments as they were sucked towards the gaping maw and into a black, trapezoidal gap. Eldritch hues writhed as a shockwave exploded outward before forming into a coherent shape.
Silence reigned.
"Who waits for the shadow?" A voice unseen whispered from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"We, the lost souls," Commander Richard Lash responded over the communications array, breaking radio silence and giving away his prowler's position.
If Admiral Patterson had been surprised by the current turn of events before, he was downright dumbfounded now. What did Commander Lash have to do with this? Why would he reveal his location, and ensure the deaths of his crew?
"Magnification thirty-five," Admiral Patterson spoke with the breath that he was slowly exhaling. Even with his ship's scanners unable to discern anything about this unknown ship, he could tell that it was downright minuscule. By all rights, the vessel couldn't be larger than two hundred fifty meters in length at best, and only thirty meters in height.
Its angular, yet pointed and aged frame wreathed in ethereal flame was far more comparable to a rhinoceros beetle than a warship.
It was a gnat in a sea of giants.
But he knew better.
He knew that the abyss that they were staring into was staring back, and he hoped beyond hope that this ghost ship did not find them wanting.
"Tempestarii, We are in danger and require immediate assistance." Commander Lash's exhausted voice sounded over the comms once more.
And then it moved.
A Covenant cruiser splintered into fragments before he could even blink; its scattered remains free-falling into the orbit of the moon. The Covenant fleet responded immediately. Two-thirds of their ships turned their attention away from Patterson's battered battlegroup to focus on the real threat.
The gnat's poisonous bite claimed another victim mere moments later, the shimmering blue hues of a destroyer's shields falling under the constant barrage of hard-light energy before cleaving through the hull fore to aft.
The massive amounts of firepower on display were a sight to behold, but it wasn't enough to deter the alien bastards from baying for their blood.
"We got incoming! Multiple destroyer class vessels moving to engage!"
"They're sending a screen of Seraphs, attack vectors interesting with our flight paths!"
"Get our point defenses on those Plasma torpedoes asap!"
"That Super Carrier is coming right before us!"
Covenant ordnance twinkled brightly in the vacuum of space like fairy lights strung upon a Christmas tree.
The ghost ship burned hard through a debris field, accelerating towards the Covenant's counterattacks with unmatched maneuverability. Torpedoes and missiles drifted uselessly into the distance, their tracking systems unable to find a viable target while thirty lines of plasma heated, detached, and arched towards the nimble ship, and harmlessly grazed off the ethereal shielding of the elusive ghost as it prowled around the UNSC ships like a sheepdog, tanking massive amounts of damage that would have cleaved through entire fleets.
Even so, the efforts of their mysterious ally wouldn't be enough. They were in no shape to fight: there was a total ammo count of nine MAC rounds between the five ships under his command, and a smattering of Archer missiles between the lot of them. There simply was not enough firepower to evenly spread between the Covenant ships baying for their blood, and that didn't even account for the dismal state of their collective battered hulls.
They needed to lick their wounds and regroup. They needed an out.
And he had the sinking suspicion that they were just getting in the way.
"We're leaving!" Patterson ordered, fidgeting with the cuffs on his uniform. "Begin exfil preparations, we're making a blind jump!"
"Sir, without a destination solution- "
"We will be a field of debris if we do not leave right now!" Admiral Patterson retorted. His facial expression softened at the sight of the tired and defeated expression of his crew. "This is only temporary. We are not abandoning our objectives, but we cannot afford to stay. We will be no use to Earth and all of her colonies dead."
Patterson shook his head. "Provide covering fire while we make our retreat!"
A chorus of "Aye's and Sirs" echoed through the bridge.
MAC rounds tore through space and behind them Archer missiles traced lacy paths of exhaust through the vacuum and towards the amassed fleet. The missiles detonated within seconds along their flight paths thanks to the robust Covenant point defense systems, while the few that managed to break past the screen spattered uselessly against energy shields alongside the last expended MAC slugs.
It did little more than annoy them.
But it was enough.
And the UNSC fleet disappeared in a wave of condensing sapphire.
? HOURS,? (DATA EXPUNGED) \ UNKNOWN SYSTEM, ORBIT NEAR MOON OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN \ ABOARD TEMPESTARII
It had been so long.
Countless minutes.
Hours.
Years.
Centuries.
It had reached out.
But there was no answer.
The one had become two.
Drifted apart forevermore.
Purposeless.
Without cause.
And then they called.
A plea for help.
An unknown foe.
The blood of countless innocents stained their souls.
This would not stand.
/Charging sequence engaged/
He raced forward.
The voices of his crew, long dead, sang in chorus.
He would save them.
/Readying Countermeasure/
He would save them all.
—
Richard Lash could not imagine an outcome that did not end with his damnation into the deepest circle of hell as he stared into the central viewscreen. Clutching at his tightening chest with his left hand, he watched as the space around the Covenant fleet, now bereft of any UNSC vessels, rippled and ruptured as a swirl of profane energies gathered around one central axis.
And then expanded outward.
What had been an overwhelming enemy force ambushing a doomed enemy was now just a distant memory, as the gaping maw of the void fell upon them like a tiger to its meat. Within moments, the menagerie of Covenant ships was nothing more than a burning memory.
Patterson's battlegroup would live to survive another day, and humanity was all but guaranteed to lay claim to the alien technologies that lie within the alien planet.
Humanity did not pay its toll of blood for this win. No dead heroes had fought their unsung final and ultimately hopeless battle against the rolling tide. No wives were widowed, or sons and daughters orphaned.
"It was a pyrrhic victory all the same," he whispered, turning to face the battered forms of his crewmates huddled together near the captain's chair.
They were certainly worse for wear, with the poor lieutenants sporting a few new bruises, busted lips, and two missing teeth in Durruno's case. They did not take kindly to him opening the com channels and giving away their position, but like everything else that had happened during this clusterfuck-
"It was necessary,"
The words rang hollow through the bridge.
"Was it?" Durruno slurred, her ire similarly bleeding through her words to the blood trickling down her chin. "That ship should not exist. None of this fuckery should!"
"And what would you have me do?" Richard spat. "Sit by and do nothing? Allow the Covenant to slaughter our forces and take control of the planet and its technology?"
In another life, that was exactly what the crew aboard the prowler had done. They had been utterly powerless to try anything else as the Covenant fleet picked through the floating graveyard of Patterson's battlegroup.
"And at what cost?" Durruno's unbruised left eye narrowed as she cradled Lieutenant Yang's head in her arms. "We bloodied their noses at best, and what will we have to show for it? Indecipherable alien technology that will take decades to research? Another front that will be contested by those alien bastards and bleed manpower away from our colonies? An open portal into fucking hell itself?"
Durruno's body shook as she sucked air into her lungs.
"Whatever deal you made and sold your soul for, what makes you think that they can't do the same?"
Richard Lash's insides churned.
It wasn't just about powerlessness. Beyond all else, it was jealousy, he realized. He wanted nothing more than for evil to pick on someone else for a change… even if that shortsighted goal would end up trading one villain for another.
Tap
Tap
The ice in Richards's veins went cold.
Tap
Tap
It was time.
Lash trudged towards the communications console like a man being escorted to the gallows before the sounds of keystrokes clashed against the incessant tapping.
"I sent out a distress beacon," Lash ran a hand through his matted, thinning hair. "You will be safe here. Both of you."
Tap
Tap
"Go. Best not to keep the devil waiting," Durruno hissed.
Tap
Tap
Lash turned, chin and lips trembling.
Tap
Tap
His heart thundered in his ears and his legs felt like lead weights.
He couldn't move.
Tap
Tap
The door arrived at him.
Rap
Tap
Tap
Closing his eyes, Commander Richard Lash placed his clammy hands onto the door's latch and turned.
—
To this day, Commander Richard Lash's current status is listed as MIA.
-O-
PHANTASMAGORIA – Written by Onishin Tsukitenshi on FanFictionNet
Adrian-B385 gripped his rifle tightly, breathing deeply as he shot yet another Kig-Yar. The Spartan glanced at the darkening sky, searching for the arriving Pelicans. Behind him, his fellow soldiers gunned down more Covenant forces as they defended the cowering civilians. The mission was supposed to be a quick rescue from a Covenant force occupying Tribute, but there were more Covenant forces than expected. Nearly half the troops had been lost, and extraction was due to arrive soon. Even worse, they were on the roof of a high-rise skyscraper, effectively trapping them.
Emptying the clip, Adrian reached for another, only to grasp at empty air. That was his last magazine. Seeing a fallen needle rifle just a few paces away, he prepared to make a dash for it, but a shout drew his attention.
"Unidentified personnel, ten o'clock!" Quickly taking cover behind the remains of a short stone wall, Adrian glanced in the aforementioned direction. Unbeknownst to him, even the Covenant forces paused to look at the newcomer. At first, he thought it was another Spartan when he saw the figure's general outline and size, but as they- no, she got closer, he realized that she was something else.
The female figure was clad in some sort of skintight purple and white suit with gold trim, looking almost like some sort of harlequin. A featureless face with blue eyes and an equally blue diamond on the forehead stared at the group.
Suddenly leaping down from the high ledge, the figure performed an elegant somersault as she landed, bowing deeply. That was when everything went strange.
Four translucent figures similar to the first appeared, positioned in the same pose. Then in sync, all five pulled out two white pistols gilded with gold and started firing upon the Covenant forces. Chaos ensued. In mere seconds, the figure slew ten Unggoy, five Sanghelli, and three Jiralhanae. All the while, high-pitched laughter could be heard over the gunfire. As the Covenant numbers dwindled down, the four copies disappeared.
The harlequin then dashed towards the surviving aliens, striking with quick and precise blows. In contrast, the Covenant forces were barely able to touch her. With impressive displays of flexibility that would make contortionists green with envy, she effortlessly dodged the shots sent her way. Flipping and turning, she brutally beat them to death via harsh kicks to their necks and skulls, making sickening crunches with each strike. Occasionally, she would fire her pistols at nearby Unggoy right as they activated their plasma grenades, causing them to take out their nearest allies with them.
Snapping out of shocked disbelief, Adrian quickly grabbed the needle rifle, firing at the first Jiralhanae he saw. The soldiers followed his example, fighting back with renewed vigor. Using the radio once more, Adrian reported, "We're under heavy fire! What's the ETA for evac?"
The radio buzzed for a moment, then a voice responded. "Evac is nearly there, ETA one minute. Hold out until then."
Noting that the roof was clear of Covenant forces, Adrian sighed in relief. Turning to the others, he announced, "The area is clear. Take this time to recover and tend to the injured."
A while later, the civilians started cheering. Turning around, Adrian looked to the sky and felt overwhelming relief when he saw the Pelicans right above them. Suddenly, he stiffened when he felt the ground rumbling. Everyone fell silent. Looking to the rooftop entrance, he could hear more Covenant forces climbing the stairwell. And from what he could hear, there were many of them.
The harlequin walked up to the door, her hands clasped together as if holding something.
"What are you doing?" Adrian asked. The harlequin then revealed that she was holding an orb of some sort, then threw it into the doorway. Adrian was surprised to see beams of light burst out from the orb, leaving scorch trails on the walls and ground as it floated down the stairs. Howls of pain could be heard, indicating that the Covenant forces wouldn't be getting up there anytime soon.
Finally, the harlequin turned to Adrian. He said, "We are thankful for your assistance. However, I must ask that you identify yourself and what you are doing here."
Ignoring him, the figure pushed past him and walked towards the civilians, who suddenly started cowering. Looking down at the five children that were part of the small group of civilians, the harlequin reached behind her back, prompting the children to try to hide behind their parents.
Nobody expected her to pull out five stuffed animals and give them to the children. One looked like an orange mouse with unusually large ears, the second was a bird (a condor, perhaps?), the third seemed to be a grey cat with rabbit-like ears, the fourth was a strange-looking canid with a nemes-like structure at its neck, and the last one was some sort of dog-lion hybrid with a horn on its nose.
'Spatial storage?' thought Adrian, seeing the items reveal themselves in simple flashes of light. Approaching the still-unidentified woman, he said, "Sorry, but you're coming with us. You're raising too many questions, and you're going to have to answer them."
The harlequin ran to the edge of the roof. Leaping onto the ledge, she turned around and giggled childishly as she waved farewell, her fingers wiggling playfully. Then she leapt off the roof, backflipping into the open air before falling.
Running over, Adrian looked down for any sight of her, but saw nothing. As the Pelicans landed to let everyone on, he looked back one last time. After a moment, he shook his head and got into the Pelican.
As the two vessels headed away from Tribute, Adrian decided to try one last thing. Radioing the pilots, he asked, "There's something on my mind. When you arrived to pick us up, did you see someone in white and purple?"
A few seconds later, there was a response. "Negative, your squad and the civilians were the only ones we saw."
Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, Adrian pursed his lips. Was happened on the roof? Who was that figure? Was it all part of his mind?
The sound of giggles interrupted his thoughts. Glancing over, he saw the children playing with the stuffed animals.
Perhaps the harlequin was real, after all. Or maybe it wasn't and the toys were something the children already had with them, and he hadn't noticed. Adrian-B385 wasn't sure. All he knew was that if she was real, hopefully she was on the side against the Covenant, and that this would be one hell of a report.
~O~
Alright folks, here's another round of omakes!
Now, with this, come some news regarding this fic, but first news on Titanomachy: for those that don't follow the story on SpaceBattles, I'd like to apologize for the delay on the latest chapter. I had to rewrite quite a lot of it due to being dissatisfied, and that put me WAY behind in progress, but hopefully it'll flow smoothly from now on. At least it'll be a Biggie Chapter™, so at least there'll be plenty to enjoy!
… Hopefully.
Now, as for news on THIS fic:
…
Next chapter coming after c:
Now, this isn't to say I'll fully return to the fic right now. I just got the feeling for writing for it again, and besides, we have a LONG time until I even come CLOSE to 5 and Infinite's plot, so we have plenty of wiggle room.
BUT BEFORE THAT!... I'll be doing re-writing of the other chapters.
There's quite a bit I dislike on them, and feel should be changed, so I WILL change them. I chalk this up to my growth in skill with the time I spent writing.
So, timeline is like this currently:
(Hopefully) Get this Titanomachy chapter fucking done already - Re-write the Discarded Blade chapters - New chapter - Return to previous writing schedule
Now, for the updated list of Frames left!
1- Banshee Prime
2- Gauss (Under consideration of SleepingMoon)
3- Ivara (Under consideration of SleepingMoon)
4- Saryn Prime
5- Titania Prime
6- Yareli
7- Valkyr Prime (Under consideration of SleepingMoon)
8- Hildryn
9- Atlas Prime
Now, one thing to note: Gauss, Ivara and Valkyr were claimed by SleepingMoon, but there has been quite some silence, so if they do not get in touch back, they'll be back for grabs. Also, Yareli, Hildryn and Atlas did receive some quick omakes… But unfortunately, they were not REQUESTED before they were sent, so I'll release them back in the wild.
That's all for now. Until next time, folks!