Author's Note: I apologize for this taking so much longer than usual, but I slowed down a lot. The muse, she is a fickle one, but here we are. We're nearing the end of part 2. Two, maybe three more chapters to go, and I feel this may be finished. I'll try to have those chapters out quicker than I got this one out, but I don't want to rush and mess up so close to the finish line. So, thanks for waiting as long as you have. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I look forward to seeing you next time I upload.
Trails of acrid green crossed the amber colored sky, leaving a sickening haze to fall over the wintry landscape near the Ark's Citadel, pieces of High Charity becoming little more than a way down to get at the food that waited below. The station that had once been home to the Covenant's heart, the home of the Hierarchs themselves, was a glorified crash cart to bring an ancient horror that much closer to fresh food and a grisly end for whoever it lay its rotting claws on.
Morgan didn't see the station hurtle up the Ark's arm and come down in a storm of infection and fire. Her golden visor reflected the blaze of ignition with every pull of the trigger, and the bolt slammed back, empty and flooded with smoke that left the chamber in curling wisps.
Another mag slammed home and the battle rifle continued its chattering, adding to the din that had filled the air with the arrival of the parasite. Human Marines in tattered fatigues, Brutes in ceremonial armor long ago tarnished, Elites in various states of decay, all of them flooded from the Flood's insertion pod. It was nothing more than a chunk of the station, broken off and forgotten on landing.
Screams from a million voices, roars that held no semblance of individual sentience, a shambling corpse made from the form of uncountable souls, all came together in a sound that sent chills up the Spartan's spine and sent her blood rushing through her veins in an ice cold struggle to fill her body with oxygen.
The ODST medic cursed as the rifle he had taken ran dry, his magazine ejecting as he reached for another with practiced ease. He did it all right, a perfect transition from one magazine to another, slamming it into the assault rifle and cocking it. He pulled the trigger and a single round went out, before a sickening click hit them all. Her head turned, whipping around in an instant, and saw the weapon had jammed on him. His eyes turned down at the weapon, almost in disbelief as he dropped it and went for his sidearm, the magnum coming up at what had once upon a time been a Human Marine.
But he wasn't fast enough. The time when it all counted, when everything came down to the wire, and he missed it. In his mind, the second dragged on for an eternity, reminding him again and again that he had failed, and he would pay the price with his life. His magnum kept coming up, arm not willing to let him just give up and die, willing to fight to the end, die on his feet and with hate on his tongue.
The end never came. It wasn't his time.
A blue armored gauntlet pierced the edge of his sight, like a bolt of lightening but infinitely more deadly. It traveled faster than anything he'd ever seen, a blur in his adrenaline flooded system, too fast even for this artificial slow down of his, and then it was gone, buried to the mid forearm in the combat form's chest. The limbs had gone limp almost immediately, the Spartan's aim true as it destroyed the infector form puppet master.
It pulled back and shook, green gore and pus coming off in waves, but it would be forever stained by the action. The medic spared her a glance, before another scream pulled him back to the fight at hand, reaching for his dropped rifle and clearing the jam.
Noble Six moved past him, her armored bulk moving like she was gliding with how little her shoulders bobbed, even returning fire. Her battle rifle chattered loudly, and ahead of both of them, the Master Chief was in the thick of it, assault rifle releasing short bursts that always seemed to hit their mark, popping infectors and dropping combat forms with the exact amount of fire before switching targets.
The medic's breathing was deafening in his helmet, and he could hear the comms chatter from the rest of his squad below, holding their exit, but neither Spartan spoke. They were like ghosts, but their silent presence on the battlefield came with a pressure that only a team of Spartans could put on. The Commander turned back to him to make sure he was following, her visor telling him things her voice didn't, and he moved up.
He looked over her armor, seeing the cracks that had marred her chest plate forever, and the discoloration of the paint on the titanium. The radio that had been attached to her back was crushed, sparking from time to time. Would she be able to get it off?
He didn't ask. It wasn't the time. Moving up to her side, rifle ready, he shared a look with her and pushed past, closer to the infector pod that blocked their way to the elevator. His helmet blocked off the rotten stench that would have gagged a maggot, and he was thankful as his armor blared a warning about contamination of an unknown type. A shudder rocked his frame as they passed by it, the combat forms all having fallen under the withering barrage that two Spartans could bring to bear.
Stepping onto the elevator, the medic didn't know what he had just come upon, not entirely, and the whole thing would be buried so deep under security clearance layers after this was all said and done that he'd never truly know what it was either. With a passing thought, he realized he didn't really want to know. Those screams would haunt him for years, would be the worst of the nightmares that plagued him until his final night.
With the elevator shifting beneath them, he took a deep breath, and hoped he didn't see it again while he was awake.
Morgan stepped onto the elevator behind the Master Chief, checking over her shoulder to make sure the medic was still following. His head tilted up to meet her gaze, and she frowned. She couldn't see his face behind his visor, couldn't gauge his reaction to it all.
In hindsight, it likely didn't matter, but the thought was there, in her mind. She remembered her run in with the Flood, remembered how it had turned her into a scared little girl again. She had fought through that infested station with both the will to survive and her fear pushing her onward. What that thought would do to the ODST, she had no clue, and she almost hoped she wouldn't find out.
The elevator shuddered and started to drop, none of them saying anything until it reached the bottom, where a squad of ODSTs and another full of red armored Elites stood waiting. They weren't chancing another ambush.
One of the ODSTs that had been waiting at the bottom came closer, his visor depolarizing and showing the man beneath. It was Stacker, and she could see his eyes pass over her armor, the broken radio that was sparking even now, and the medic that stood next to her.
He whistled low. "Damn, they did a number on you, didn't they?"
Her helmet tilted to look at him. "Good thing I'm indestructible."
A smile made its way through, despite the circumstances. "Yeah, it is, ain't it? Come on, transport is waiting outside. You been gettin' Keyes' transmissions?"
"Negative." She glanced back at the antenna that had come from the armor's rear plate. It jutted out of an added on armor box, one that was, unfortunately, dented heavily, sparks coming from the top with the sound of crushed electricals struggling to power on. Looking back to Stacker, she shook her head. "Long range is out. Stuck on short range."
Going through her armor's systems, she found the radio addition, cutting power to it and stopping the sparks finally. The Master Chief stepped past her, looking down at Stacker, and then to her. "We need to move."
She nodded, looking back to Stacker. "Give me a sit rep."
"Armor and Hogs have been dropped outside, ready for us to move into a mountain pass that takes us through the other side and gives us a winding path to the Citadel. Covies are all over the pass so it ain't gonna be easy. Not very wide either so we're stuck with moving less than we'd like to."
"One final push then. Let's get outside and get loaded up. What about the Elites?"
Stacker shrugged. "No clue. Either they join us or load back up in their Phantoms and go over the top. Triple A should all be knocked out, so they should be able to move without issue."
"It'll do. Is Ranger still up?"
"Yes ma'am, ready to provide close air support. Air superiority is ours, so they've been rearmed with AGMs in case of heavy resistance."
"Good. Let's get outside, get loaded up, and roll out. We don't have much time."
Stacker immediately started giving orders to his squad to form up and get moving. With Noble Six back in action, they were ready for the final push on the citadel. Stepping out of the tower and into the late day sun, the sound of engines idling and the yelling of voices caught her ears.
A convoy had set up on the pathway next to the tower's entry, two Scorpions and a group of Warhogs sat waiting, one of the 'hogs armed with a high power gauss cannon. The Master Chief went straight for the gauss hog, climbing onto the back and waiting for them to get moving. Morgan chose something more armored, more ready to shrug off punishment. She wasn't interested in making herself vulnerable. Not again.
Climbing onto the tread cover and dropping into the machine gunners slot on the Scorpion, she connected herself to the tank's communications. "Who's on the other end of this tank?"
The Irish accent that responded was familiar, one she had worked with already. "Aye, we just keep runnin' intae each other don't we? Armadillo's in the driver's seat, ma'am."
"Good to be working with you again, trooper."
"Likewise, commander. I'll get ya where ya need tae go."
At least she was in a tank with a woman that could hold her own. Morgan kept the communications channel open, but switched to another, the command channel. "Mount up, Marines. We're burning time. Stepping off in one."
A chorus of voices answered, and any Marines that weren't already in their vehicles hopped in, several hopping onto the tread pods of both Scorpions and hefting heavy weapons for defense."
Stacker's ODST squad was half in one Warthog and half in another, taking up the two lead Warthogs with the Master Chief on their gauss cannon. Marines in standard battle dress did the same for the rear Warthogs and Scorpion.
Satisfied the lead vehicles were ready, she twisted in the gunner's seat and looked back. Everybody in the rear was ready. Clicking her comm, she gave the order. "Lead vic, step off, spread out. Armor, stay in column, try not to block the road if we end up eating it."
Affirmatives from each vehicle commander sounded, and the Warthog in the lead rocked against its suspension when it started moving. The low hum of idling engines became a loud growl, treads squeaking and whining as the tanks accelerated slowly and kept pace with the Warthogs.
Morgan lowered herself into a seated stance in the gun, pulling the bolt back on the machine gun and setting a round in the chamber in case anything got too close. She could smell the stale air in her helmet, the dried sweat, and even a hint of blood, but it was little more than a distraction to her. Armadillo kept quiet, likely focused on driving the tank through what had started to become a less than smooth pass. Rocks rose up on either side, the Warthogs skirting around them when they got into the roadway, but the Scorpion was large enough and powerful enough to just roll over them.
The engine belched black smoke out the rear, dissipated by the whipping wind and the other Scorpion's turret spreading it out. Armadillo's turret scanned to the right as they started to take a turn in the bend, ready to fire on whatever they saw.
Nothing came, the sounds of engines echoing off of the stony walls. Morgan was less than enthused about a running gunfight in this passage, more than ready to get into the open where the Scorpion's big gun could do its job properly.
The crack of the gauss cannon firing caught her attention, and she looked forward again. The lead Warthog whipped around the corner with the Master Chief holding onto the gun, another crack sounding as it fired again. The Warthog disappeared behind more stone but a Ghost, cored through the center and burning, skidded across the snow and ice. More cracks sounded and the second Warthog gunned its engine to keep up with its partner and ensure it wasn't overwhelmed.
Keying her comm, she called out to them. "Vic one, you're extending. Be careful."
The Master Chief was quick to respond. "Understood."
Returning to the vehicle net, she gave Armadillo the order. "Pick up the pace, don't let them get too far ahead in case of heavy armor."
"Aye, ma'am, steppin' on it."
The Scorpion lurched and the tracks continued to grind and squeak against the cold ground, snow and ice breaking and being smashed underneath the heavy tread pods. The engine increased in volume, roaring in protest at the load it was being given to push.
Rounding the first corner completely, several Ghosts sat destroyed, either cored by the gauss cannon or riddled with holes from the LAAG. A floating watch tower had been reduced to a broken platform off to the side, the grav lift that had held it only a few minutes before now holding nothing. Brute and Grunt corpses littered the area, with a pair of Jackals being burned in the fires of the watch tower platform.
Her comm buzzed, a voice filtering into her ear, the deep baritone of the Master Chief. "Citadel in sight, multiple road blocks on the path across the mountain's edge. Pulling back to convoy."
"Confirmed, Master Chief." She switched back to the convoy's main net. "All vics be advised, moving around the next bend will expose us to roadblocks. Light vehicles are given autonomy. Armor will engage heavy assets and static positions as needed."
A chorus of copies from the Marines in the side seats filled the net, and with Armadillo pushing around the next curve in the road, she saw the battlefield spread out in front of her.
The Citadel sat at the edge of a snow covered field, mountains on all sides closing the area off. Mountain paths to the right were covered in Covenant soldiers and positions, while the field below had a platoon of Wraiths dug in and ready to lob mortars at the convoy.
Stacker's voice filled the command channel, his accent twanging as another crack sounded, both in his end of the comm and from the vehicle ahead. "Brutes're mobilizing everything they got, crawling all over this damn cliffside! Watch ou-" The comm cut on his end, the ODST not wanting to fill the channel with things that weren't relevant to the rest of the convoy.
Morgan didn't respond, going back to the vehicle net. "Armadillo, who's in the tank behind us?"
"Callsign is Chaos, Ma'am," the reply came from behind them. Scorpion 2's driver was sunken into the armor of the tank, the gun shifting and loosing a shot into the valley where it impacted off to the side of a ghost and flipped it. The Grunt inside fell out, scrambling up to get away from the vehicle and any more shots.
"Roger, Chaos. Path ahead branches off, left and right. You're left, low road. Bounding tactics, but if a mortar starts coming your way, displace immediately."
"Chaos copies."
"Armadillo, that leaves us to the right. Move up, you're first jump."
"Aye, Armadillo's joining the party."
The Scorpion growled as the tank moved up and over the first hill. A squad of infantry stood beneath another hovering observation platform, a Jackal peeking over the lip and squawking as it realized it was skylined and a tank was looking right at it.
With less than three pounds of pressure, Armadillo's finger closed on the trigger to the main gun, and it roared as it sent a shell towards the observation post. The HE shell impacted before any of the snow that had been knocked off of the walls could start to drift, and the observation post disappeared in a storm of fire and shrapnel, the Jackal inside little more than chunks and pieces.
The observation post came apart in broken pieces that rained down on the squad below, one piece crushing the Brute squad leader and leaving the Grunts to realize they were destined to be little more than another moment of target practice.
The machine gun came to life in Morgan's hands, barking and spitting tracers into the Grunts as she walked it from the left to the right, ripping the diminutive aliens apart in a hail of yellow fire. They were all silent within seconds, bright blue blood pooling in a small pond that was disrupted by the Scorpion's treads rolling through.
Morgan didn't hear the sounds of cracking bones, but the hiss of punctured methane tanks sounded loud enough. With their first job done, the tank came to a halt looking at the next hard point, where the Warthogs that had been leading were already tearing through. "Chaos, move up, you're next jump. Path is a left turn after you pass in front of the hill we're on, Warthogs are in the thick of it so check fire."
"Roger, Chaos displacing."
Below her and to the left, she could hear the sound of Chaos' engine revving up as it passed forward and around the hill that dropped down onto the path ahead. The turret was rotated to the left, watching for any more movement on the ground. Firing into the midst of the fight going on with his main gun was too risky, and the targets on the field below were far more numerous.
At the next hard point of resistance, more observation posts sat waiting, Jackals firing down at the Warthogs and making near misses. Morgan gave the order. "Armadillo, switch to coax, gun down the snipers. Safe the main gun. We don't want to crush our boys."
The sound of the coaxial machine gun was her answer, the machine gun built into the Scorpion's turret coming to life and rattling as it sent rounds into the observation posts. Morgan joined her own fire with it, and bullet holes all through the purple armor appeared like a rash, and purple blood started to flow as the Jackals were ripped apart by the heavy rounds.
The twin machine guns fell back to silence as the triggers released and Armadillo took up the rear, dropping off the hill and into the cover provided by the outcropping of stone. The path continued on to the left, hooking around to the other side, while a tunnel through the rock acted as a shortcut. Chaos was already taking the long way, and with the tunnel being a covered spot from the fire that was lancing up from the field below, Armadillo moved into the hollow center of the rock with the gun at the ready.
Turbofans howled overhead, muffled by the rock and nearly drowned out by the Scorpion's engine echoing in the tunnel. A flight of Hornets passed them by, nose guns opening up as Marines hefting rocket launchers hung off of the sides, firing into the horde below. The new channel connected automatically, and she could hear one of the Marine crewmen calling out to another. "Watch this drive!"
A rocket was accompanied by a burst of light and the woosh of the rocket motor burning to life, launching from the side of the lead Hornet and screaming for the line of Wraiths that had been dug in almost a mile distant. The crew struggled to bring it to life, pull it out of its ditch, and flee, but they were too late. Just as the Wraith lifted back off the ground and pulled back, the rocket impacted, burying itself in the driver's hatch and burrowing in before detonating. The explosion was massive, and the mortar in the back blew with a shower of still hot plasma. Steam filled the air as snow melted in a large patch around the tank before evaporating into the air, burned off completely.
A whoop went up as the Hornets dropped altitude and circled around before splitting up and filling the air. Ahead, another pair of Hornets had come in, touching down with the pilots abandoning their craft, one of them flagging down the gauss warthog that had stopped abruptly.
The Master Chief had leapt from the back, the ODST in the passenger seat swinging around and taking the gun before the 'hog rocketed off again, kicking up a rooster tail of snow and dirt behind it as it followed a sloping hill down to the valley. Calling out to Armadillo, Morgan pointed for the Hornets.
"Get me to the birds, then get hull down. You've got lead on armor element. Chaos, status."
Armadillo didn't respond, but Morgan knew she had been heard. Chaos' voice filtered in over the channel. "Green, ma'am."
"Get in position, provide long range fire support where possible. Focus on the Wraiths first. That goes for both of you."
As Armadillo came to a halt behind the remaining Hornet, Morgan hopped out, and made a run for the bird, the Master Chief having already lifted off. The Marine on the side closest to her shouted something that was lost in the wash of the turbofan, the pilot bailing out of the Hornet and moving to take up a place in the Scorpion.
Hefting herself up and over the lip of the Hornet's cockpit, her radio crackled, a voice filtering through on all bands. "Break break break, all units, this is Forward Unto Dawn, be advised, two Scarabs have been detected falling through the Ark's atmosphere, directly above the Citadel. Landfall in 20 seconds. Noble, do you read?"
She felt exasperation as she pushed the Hornet's collective higher, lifting off the ground and leaving behind puddles of water where the snow had been melted by the heat of the engines. "Noble is on station."
"Ranger is in the air and armed with Blacksmith missiles for anti-armor usage. You have lead on the ground. Dawn is moving in to prevent possible Flood outbreak. Additional: Dawn Actual is off the ship. Repeat, Masterlock has left the ship."
Confusion flooded her head, and she pushed the Hornet out over the field. Warthogs and Ghosts crisscrossed the field in a shower of plasma bolts, a hail of tracer fire, and the bright blue line of gauss fire. Looking up, she could see twin fireballs dropping fast. "Say again, Dawn?"
"Masterlock has left the ship in a Pelican, we have her on radar but she's moving straight for you. Unknown if the Pelican has additional crew or not."
A muttered curse, a pit in her gut. "Noble copies all. Out." Cutting the channel, she pushed forward on the control stick, nosing down slightly and catching a Ghost caught out. The twin autocannons mounted in the wing roots opened up with a rapid fire barrage that kicked up snow and dirt, and eventually punched holes in the Ghost and the driver, ripping both apart in a storm of fire and body parts.
Shifting fire, she rotated to hit another target when the Hornet blared an alarm. The radar in the attack craft had picked up the two Scarabs, and both came down in a storm of fire as belly mounted thrusters came to life and slowed their descent. All four legs unfolded from the bodies, and as they picked themselves up, massive thruster beds were left behind on the snowy field. The rear mounted AA guns came to life, firing at the Hornets swarming around as Brutes stormed out of the inner areas to man the guns on the Scarabs' bodies.
A hail of bright plasma climbed into the sky, streaking past the Hornet without hitting it, miraculously. The twin anti-aircraft guns opened up as well, casting the entire clearing in a bright glow that tinted the white snow a faint purple. Over the wash of the jet engines, the firing of the rockets on the Hornet's skids, and the firing of the guns, she could hear every stomp that the Scarabs took,
Two hands manipulated the stick between her legs and the collective lever next to her left thigh. Gloves ghosted over the firing stud and the trigger, and with a banshee screaming through the sky in front of the Hornet, the firing stud pushed deep into the trigger's body as the firing tone growled loudly in the cockpit.
Missiles screamed from their pods at the wing roots, their motors igniting and propelling them to faster than the speed of sound in seconds as they spun and twirled through the air to chase the offending purple craft down.
The Brute pilot took evasive maneuvers, diving and spinning to avoid them, but the seekers continued to track, maneuvering fins pivoting and twisting to get them back on target. One dove after the Banshee at high speed, overshooting it and plummeting into the ground, but the other continued its track path. Spinning did nothing, and the high speed the Banshee went down at was nothing in comparison to the missile. The banshee started to shake at the turn it pulled, the pilot pulling back on his controls just in time to avoid the ground.
Unfortunately for him, the missile did too, and the rear of the Banshee, where the pilot's boots could be seen, disappeared in a storm of shrapnel as the missile exploded just short, sending the warhead's contents straight into the cockpit and out the front. The craft became a mess of shredded armor and ripped internals, losing power and dropping to the snowy ground below where the front-heavy body flipped end over end, cartwheeling into the foot of the mountain and detonating in a fireball.
The entire engagement had lasted seven seconds, and Morgan had forgotten about the Banshee the moment the missiles had gone out. Her radar signified nothing more than another blip disappearing, and the crew channel was alive with target callouts from the Marines on the sides.
"Scratch another howler. Nice shooting, Commander."
"Chief's Hornet is doin' well too, from the looks of it. Just saw him drop one too."
Morgan interjected. "See any more in the sky?"
"Negative, Comm- Wait, two Banshees just came over the top, east side. Taking aim."
A few seconds passed before Morgan heard the whoosh of another rocket firing and the reload call that followed. The rocket spiraled into a trajectory that tracked every move the Banshee in its sights made, and when the aircraft started to dive just like its now destroyed cousin, its fate was sealed. The rocket dropped its nose and accelerated even more, the motor finally burning out and leaving it to be nothing more than a dark speck against the black cliffsides.
The warhead smashed into the Banshee's side and detonated an instant later, ripping it to pieces and sending it to the ground below, where it smashed into the snow and was buried.
"Splash one fighter. Got another one up there."
"Copy, brace for evasive."
The remaining Banshee broke into evasive maneuvers, but kept tracking towards them. It increased speed, looking like it was going for a ram, and Morgan cursed.
Pulling on the stick, the Hornet whined at the maneuver, and plasma passed by in a hailstorm of bright blue and, at one point, the sickly green of a fuel rod shot. The Marines cursed in her ear as she went defensive, moving left and right, raising and dropping the collective in timed increments as Spartan Time kicked in.
Alternating thuds started to sound as the cannons in the Hornet opened up, punching into the Banshee or plinking off of its armor at certain angles. Thick, black smoke started to trail from the body, and a fire broke out on it as it started to fall down. There was no attempt to pull out of the dive, or to eject. She must have gotten a lucky hit on the pilot.
The Hornet spun on its axis, the thruster nacelles twisting and changing their power settings on the fly as the flight control systems struggled to keep up with a Spartan's commands. An alarm blared in the cockpit, a rapid beeping that meant nothing good, and she realized what it was with the Scarab closest to her turning its rear anti-aircraft gun and getting a solid lock on her.
If she maneuvered too hard or pointed the aircraft straight down, it might injure the Marines on the side. If she didn't, they might all be killed. She had just started to push the nose forward and do it anyway when a streak passed through the air, distorting it, and whatever it was slammed into the base of the anti-aircraft gun. An explosion rocked it, and the gun's fire stopped, before the turret itself drooped down and started dripping waves of plasma.
The grip on her heart released her, and she followed the streak back to see the Scorpion belonging to Chaos, hidden except for the turret behind a snowbank, shifting fire to hit the other Scarab. She made a note to thank him later.
If there was a later.
They were running out of time. "Ranger flight, this is Noble. Are you on station?"
Static filled the net, a distorted voice coming through, before it cleared up. "-on station. Ready for tasking, Noble."
"Move quick, two Scarabs on the ground, and we're having trouble popping them. They're covering each other's blind spots. You have anything for that?"
Caesar's rich voice was tinged with a laugh. "It's your lucky day, Commander. Laze target one, give us a bearing."
"Roger, Ranger." Switching to the infrared laser system packed into the Hornet for use during just such an occasion, she keyed in the code and got the bearing. "Laze up on Scarab One. Ingress from the beachfront, up-arm. Magnetic heading is 020, laze code is 1466. You're cleared hot."
"Starting my run now. Two birds, inbound hot from the south-west, we'll put her down. Suggest you get back from it, Noble."
She didn't respond, but pulled back on the control stick and angled the Hornet back, the engines still at enough power to have them float backwards away from the Scarab. It was already twisting around its entire body to get a shot on her with the main gun, and with bright green plasma dripping from the main gun, she hoped Ranger moved fast.
Their entrance was silent for the most part, accompanied only by the sound of what very well could have been distant thunder over the din of battle. Morgan watched the Scarab, taking evasive maneuvers preemptively, and she waited. Waited for the shot that never came from the gun, waited for the shadow of a Broadsword fighter to pass over it, minus the payload it carried, waited for one Scarab to fall dead.
Then the air was split by a thundering boom. Ranger One, having passed through the sound barrier just moments before, streaked through the sky, a missile missing from the right inboard pylon, and banked to the right. Ranger Two was hot on the first ship's heels, already missing the same missile, following the lead bird through the turn perfectly, and the two disappeared back over the mountains to prepare for a second run when it was ready.
They were gone before the laser guided missiles hit. The first flew true, the hardened penetrator passing straight through the heavy armor on the top and burrowing deep into the starship grade armor of the Scarab. It detonated as soon as the tail fins were snapped off, blowing a massive hole in the armor that was quickly obscured by the fireball it kicked up. The laser was gone in all of the activity going on, but the second missile followed close behind, disappearing into the fireball only to blow and feed it even further.
The Scarab struggled to stay upright, but the gun went dark immediately, and it started to shake on its legs, one of them pulled back up into the air. It was as if the massive machine was paralyzed by the strike, and within a few more seconds, it came crashing down as its balance shifted to the left and it toppled, before the reactor blew. It was as if a small nuke had gone off, and a mushroom cloud of fire and smoke climbed into the sky.
Keying the comm, she knew there was no time to waste. "Ranger, good effect on target. Setting up for strike two, same pattern. Cleared hot."
"Roger, inbound hot from south-west again. Time on target 10 seconds."
The line cut again as Caesar gave the orders to his wingman, and almost like a promise had been made, the two Broadswords streaked in from over the mountains, engines screaming in the cold air and leaving a pair of contrails. They banked left this time, avoiding the futile return fire from the Scarab, and disappeared, marked only by the thunderclaps they left rolling across the clearing, the death knell of another Scarab.
Then the Scarab went up, just like its brethren, but it blew before it went down, scattering armor and bits of machinery all over the area. The Gausshog that had been skittering across the snowy field was forced to juke left and right, and with a glance, Morgan could see Stacker hanging onto the central roll bar for dear life, likely cussing up a storm as one of the larger pieces of armor came down and stuck into the ground, red hot on one end.
The deep tones of Morgan's voice filled the airwaves. "Scarab threat neutralized, clean up and get to the Citadel, secure the area. Master Chief?"
"Ma'am." He was as quick on the draw as ever.
"Disembark, meet me at the stairs."
Another clipped response, and the channel went dead. Flights of Pelicans started coming over the mountain tops, the threats neutralized enough for more Scorpions to be dropped off on the ridge and for engineer units to settle into place just in case anything else reared its ugly head. Line infantry poured out by the squad, slamming into cover against rocks, snow drifts, anything to have a form of cover as shovels went to work and entrenching tools dug into place.
The whine of the Hornet's engines lowered in pitch and slowed in tone, dropping the aircraft to the field below, where the Master Chief had already touched down, his Marine pair immediately stepping off and scanning the skies. A green painted Phantom swooped into place, the gravity lift activating and dropping a very ready looking Arbiter, energy sword alight with his intent, and a pair of Elites, clad in golden armor with striking green stripes painted over the Forerunner symbols that had been embedded in their armor.
The two Elites scanned the area, mandibles already in animated conversation with their leader as they hefted twin plasma rifles. The gray armored Arbiter seemed to listen, craning his neck to see the approaching figure of The Demon, and finally set his orange, reptilian eyes on Morgan, the Hornet touching down and the canopy popping open.
Vaulting over the edge, her rifle pivoting over her shoulder and into her hand as her Marines stood guard over her bird. Keying the comm one more time, she gave her last order. "Stacker, you're lead until I come back out or Keyes takes over."
"Copy, Noble. Finish it."
She didn't respond. There had been enough words for now. The end was in sight, so close she could reach out and touch it almost, and she wanted nothing more than to finally turn the page on this twisted book.
The Master Chief looked down at her as she ascended the steps, standing next to the Elites on top, before he turned to the wide gap between their pedestal and the Citadel proper.
With the arrival of 343 Guilty Spark, fluttering about anxiously and muttering to itself about containment and the array's activation, the Arbiter craned his head down. "The Flood scales the far wall of the Citadel even now. The Prophet will die by my hands, not theirs." It was a promise, one that the two Spartans were all too willing to bring to fruition.
Morgan nodded to him as the bridge sparkled to life, and the five set off across it. "Do what you will, Arbiter, just make sure that he doesn't get a chance to light the rings and send us all to hell with him."
They were moving at a rapid pace, almost at a full sprint, long legs of both species carrying them across quickly, weapons drawn and ready for whatever might await them.
Passing through the threshold and into the Citadel's lower level, Morgan felt something come over her, a headache that seemed to split her skull and make the bile in her stomach rise. She could taste the acidity and her mouth filled with saliva as a voice she missed dearly sounded from the deepest parts of her mind.
"It asked… and I answered. For a moment of safety… I loosed damnation upon the stars."
She nearly stumbled, her footing slipping, but she didn't go down. A hand clad in green armor was latched onto her wrist, golden visor already looking back even as he continued to drag her along in his wake, amber light burning in her HUD. She sent the green status light in return, wordlessly thanking him as she got her momentum back up.
Several screens came alive with the visage of the Prophet of Truth, looking haggard even for a Prophet. "My faithful… stand firm. Though our enemies crowd around us, we tread the blessed path. In a moment, I shall light the rings, and all who believe, shall be saved!"
The Prophet drifted to the side, hand coming up and gesturing behind him, where the same Chieftain that had nearly ended her own life held Johnson by the front of his flak vest, the man punching the Chieftain in the face repeatedly, with no results. Even from here, she could see the bruises on his face, the swollen features, the trails of blood leaking from his nose and mouth.
Another voice crackled in her ear, and Morgan frowned. "Morgan, how close are you?"
The answer to Keyes' came not from her, but from the Chief. "Not close enough."
Silence for a few moments, and then right before the channel cut, Morgan's blood ran cold. "So be it."
The channel cut without another word, and Morgan pushed for every bit of speed she had, outpacing the Elites and the other Spartan until they did the same. Her arms pumped and her boots slapped against the glass flooring like a bell ringing at midnight. Every heartbeat thundered in her ears, louder and louder until it was all she heard.
Sliding to a stop on the elevator platform, she smacked the controls, and it started to drift up just as the rest moved into place, weapons drawn.
It rose far too slowly, taking an eternity to travel the way up, and the sound of Johnson's voice came back to her, blotting out the screams that she had heard while she was getting trashed only a short while ago.
Folks need heroes, Lieutenant, now smile, would ya? While we still go something to smile about.
Something above crashed, the sound of distant jet wash and what must have been a nasty impact. Gunfire followed soon after, and then it all went quiet again.
Swallowing another wave of bile, she steeled herself, and counted down the changes in the altitude her armor gave her, until it finally came to a stop after a ride far too long for her liking, and as she stepped off with her weapon drawn, a sickly sound came from behind.
All three Elites turned, weapons up and hot, and the Master Chief was ready to paint the walls green as two massive Flood forms stood, a voice coming seemingly from everywhere. "Do not shoot, but listen! Let me lead you safely to our foe. Only you can halt what he has set in motion!"
The green helmet stayed locked onto the right Tank form, and the Elites watched the left as the amber status light blinked once, then a red, and she frowned in her helmet, feeling the weight of the question those lights posed.
Finally, she returned an amber and then a green. Go with it, but be ready. A green came back immediately. He would follow her, whatever her decision, but they needed to move now. Her voice carried to the Elites. "Just work with it, we need to stop the rings or nothing will matter anyway."
The Arbiter's orange eyes flickered over to her visor, and she could see the questioning in them, but he eventually turned to move through the open doorway and onto the bridge that led to the Citadel's control center.
Several rings were alight, surrounding the bridge and the remaining Covenant troops. One of them remained dark, shot through with red in some areas. Pushing out first, her rifle was up, and it barked in short bursts as the Elites passed by, twin plasma rifles blazing and the Arbiter's sword shone brightly as the Sangheilli waded into the field of battle. Flood infector forms skittered across the bridge, with the twin Tanks following the Elites, and the Master Chief taking up the rear with Morgan.
Spikers and Maulers roared, mixing with the battle cries of Elites and Brutes alike as the battle started to rage. Morgan stuck close to the Master Chief, both of their weapons barking with each pull of the trigger.
No shot went unplaced, no pull of the trigger was too much or too little, brass flew through the air in a glittering hail that hit the floor and rolled into the shadows to be forgotten forever. Two of the strongest Spartans gracing the battlefield together would have been a slaughter, a guaranteed end to any alien enemies that came into sight. With the addition of one of the strongest Sangheilli warriors, bearing the ancient armor of the Arbiter, and twin warriors that had earned the gold armor that covered them, it was only a matter of time.
Morgan's heart thundered in her ear, the beat becoming a primal rhythm that drove her through Brutes, Grunts, and Jackals alike. Nothing slowed them down as they burned through the remaining Covenant loyalists, passing through two rooms of defenses without stopping for even a second.
Not even the Hunter pair that stood ready, fuel rod guns glowing green with radiation and power, would block their way. One went down under a hail of plasma fire, internal eel colony being burned away by the bright blue blaze. The other fired off its weapon, roaring in agony at the loss of its bonded sibling, and as it raised its weapon to slam down on one of the Elites, the two Tank forms stepped into the way, grabbing the shield before it could come down and overpowering the Hunter before taking it to the ground. The bronze armored behemoth disappeared beneath a wall of pestilence, likely ripped to shreds by the Flood forms that brought it to its end.
Then Morgan saw it, the Brute Chieftain that had caused so much trouble, that had been a thorn in her side for far too long. Even as she sprinted forward towards the last remaining obstacle in her way, she could see the flash of the Pelican, hanging nearly off of the platform, and green armor of a UNSC Marine holding onto a form clad in the gray uniform of a naval officer.
But that wouldn't be enough to stop her. Not yet. Her rifle went to her back as the massive alien's gravity hammer swung in an underhanded arc, coming up and barely missing the Spartan as she slid right. She wouldn't be hit by the same attack again.
Half a ton of Spartan met thousands of pounds of Chieftain, and the two went down in a battle of titans that would decide the end of the war. Two massive arms wrapped around her and tried to squeeze, and she felt the biofoam in her chest start to give way, even as her arms started beating against its face, again and again, going until one of them went down. The helmet cracked and snapped under her barrage, falling off and revealing the wrinkled, gray haired scalp beneath, and a roar from the Chieftain, before she reared back against the increasing pain in her chest, and one final punch sent her fist through its skull in a wave of gore and bits of bone.
The pressure on her chest didn't stop, not until the arms were pulled away by the Master Chief. The battle had ended within four seconds of its beginning, a quick, messy end to something that had nearly killed her. With her chest cavity collapsing against the weakened biofoam, though, it might still end up getting her.
But with another round of biofoam from her armor's injection system, she pushed on with a slight limp, up the steps to where the Elites had already surrounded the final Prophet. Her eyes wandered elsewhere, to the two Human forms leaning against the Pelican that lay hanging halfway off the platform.
Johnson sat quietly, cradling the lifeless form of Commander Miranda Keyes. The blood dripping from cuts and bruises across his face, his broken nose, and the corner of his mouth fell against the flak vest he wore, but he paid it no mind. The two Spartans moved closer, both of them joining in the moment of silence as they stared into the commander's empty eyes.
The moment dragged on for an eternity, and Morgan's gut seemed to seize, despite the numbing effects of the biofoam creeping through her core. She had lost another, and it dug at her. Would she see Keyes there at the end with Noble? She didn't know, but it wasn't time to question that, and Johnson's tired voice, hollow and far away, told them what to do.
"Stop the rings… save the rest."
Morgan continued to stare for another moment, before forcing herself to look away, to turn her entire body from the scene and move for the controls. Even now, the weak voice of the Prophet of Truth spoke to the Arbiter, held aloft by his robes, his ornate headdress seemingly dull in the fading sunlight.
"Can you see… Arbiter? The moment of salvation… is finally at hand." The words were hoarse, the whisper that would fade into the Covenant's final night.
"It shall not last," the big Elite replied, and even now, Morgan saw it. The growths on the Prophet, the tumors showing across the brittle, thin arms.
"Your kind… never believed in the promise of the Sacred Rings," he spoke, a tendril popping out of the leathery skin at the crevice between his shoulder and neck. Morgan's skin crawled even as she moved closer to the controls.
The voice that sounded was closer, darker, one that had her blood turn to ice as things started to change. "Lies for the weak, beacons for the deluded."
With more sprouting from the fading Prophet's body, the Arbiter seemed to sense the time to finish this was at hand, and Morgan finally got the control panel. The blue armored hand reached out to touch the yellow symbol on the console, pressing down on it as the Prophet screamed in protest, throat creaking as vocal cords shifted and fought against the parasite and disuse in anything more than a speaking level.
Morgan turned back, turned to look at the final moments of the Prophet as the death knell sounded in a voice clouded by failure, infection, and age. "I am Truth… the voice of the Covenant!"
The Arbiter seized the Prophet's throat in a strong grip, nearly choking him as the final words came. "And so you must be silenced."
The energy sword that had been deactivated the entire time, now hissed back to life, the twin blades piercing Truth's back and emerging through his chest, a rattling breath coming at last as the Prophet of Truth, the instigator of the entire war, and indirectly responsible for the genocide of billions of Humans, fell silent.
A triumphant roar by the Elites, both of the gold armored Sangheilli rising with the Arbiter as they avenged their slain brethren from the beginning of the Great Schism, and finally the Arbiter looked to Morgan and the Chief, seemingly satisfied at having gotten his revenge.
Across the bridge, the six rings had grown dark, and turning back to the Pelican, Morgan could see Johnson carrying Miranda's body into the troop bay, readying it for take off.
Her communicator crackled to life, a voice she had become barely familiar with coming through. "Noble, I can't reach Masterlock. We've managed to raise ONI Recon team Spooky. MASSCAS event declared. Spooky Actual is bugging out with the data they've grabbed and is returning to Aegis Fate and Ode to Autumn for delivery while they pull out of the Sandtrap area."
It had been the Dawn's XO, and she swallowed as she answered. "Masterlock is confirmed KIA. The rings have been shut down. We're moving out with Johnson and the Elites, ETA 15."
The pause on the other end was several seconds long, before a faint sigh reached the comm. The XO had likely tried to hide it, but failed. "Confirmed, Noble. Unless Spooky takes command, you're lead."
She frowned, gesturing to the Master Chief and the Elites to come closer. "Understood, keep command of the fleet assets, start pulling ground forces back from the Citadel. Status of the Shadow of Intent?"
"Weapons still offline, but they've managed to seal the ship and sterilized the whole thing."
"Roger, keep me posted. Noble, out."
With the comm cutting, she bit at her lip, but decided there was nothing more that she could do. "Get on the bird. We're getting out of here."
Her order was received, and the Elites slowly moved over to get into the Pelican, with the two Spartans following at the rear of their line, but the ground started to shake beneath their feet, green tentacles bursting forth from beneath the platform with a blood chilling laugh, one that wrapped a rotten hand around Morgan's heart.
One of the tentacles, shedding a mist of green and mottled gray, pierced one of the Elites on its way up, narrowly missing the rear left thruster pod on the Pelican, and pushed the unfortunate Elite into the sky. It writhed against the force that had penetrated through its heavy armor with no effort. Even as Morgan and the Master Chief moved to get into the Pelican where the Arbiter and the other Elite sat waiting, weapons ready, she saw the flare of blue on gold. A plasma grenade had been activated, and the Elite disappeared in the flash of blue that followed. The massive tentacle was ripped in two, coming down like a felled tree as the Pelican's engines whined loudly and it lifted off, once again barely missing a tentacle that would likely crush it.
With both landing gear out, the Master Chief was the first to make the jump, to leap up and grab on to the left landing leg. The Arbiter reached for his green armored arm, to pull him up, and Morgan latched onto his leg in an attempt to not be left behind, but the moment her hand made contact and her feet left the ground, another one of the tentacles slammed into the right side of the Pelican. The armor dented and bowed in, the bay noticeably deforming inside.
With such a heavy hit, the Master Chief couldn't hold on, even with his prodigious strength, and the Pelican started to go into a flat spin. Morgan held on tightly, a groan escaping her throat as she fought against the rapidly increasing G forces, until she was forced off and back onto the platform. Her armor screeched against the decking as she slid back, until finally her back hit the wall. A cough, but no blood this time, thankfully. She still felt it, the pain creeping further and further into her mind. She could only push it so far into her mind, and she was reaching her breaking point.
Fighting against the urge to keep her eyes shut, she forced them open, her hand grabbing for her magnum and ripping it off of her hip before she forced herself into a shaky stance. A dozen meters away, the Master Chief was already up, assault rifle in hand and moving towards her with his front facing away. The two tank forms that had killed the Hunter pair were encroaching on them, and several infection forms skittered closer quickly. Infected Brutes were coming up the path to them, moving like puppets with thin strings.
With a shuddering breath, she held her pistol up, not one to waste time in a situation like this, and the first shot rang out even as the Gravemind that haunted them, that sought to bury them both here, laughed, its eerie voice speaking in that rhythmic pattern that only irritated her.
"Now the gate has been unlatched, headstones pushed aside. Corpses shift and offer room, a fate you must abide!"
The first round that hit smashed into the chest of a Brute combat form, the high explosive round blasting a hole in its chest and killing the puppetmaster inside with a loud pop. Johnson's voice in her ears was filled with static and strain as he fought to keep control of the Pelican, having disappeared out of the entry hole it had come in through.
"I can't control her! No way I'll be able to pick you back up! Get back to the lift and find a way down!"
She didn't answer, her pistol barking like a rabid dog with every pull of the trigger. The chattering notes of the assault rifle next to her filled the air with a never ending stream of fire, feeding it all into the chest of the first tank form.
It did little more than cause sickly green bursts of fluid to pop out of its body, splattering to the ground below, and it roared as it galloped forward on its hands and legs, like an oversized gorilla. The Master Chief was more than ready for it, though, firing the rifle one handed until the clip ran dry, his hand already wrapped around a grenade missing its pin.
Morgan watched as he blurred forward, moving faster than she had seen almost any other Spartan, and his hand disappeared into the tank forms chest. It roared loudly into his visor, and she saw only the emotionless faceplate as he yanked his arm back out in a storm of green fluid, before he jumped back and went into a roll.
With the grenade buried deep within its core, the tank form's fate was sealed, and a moment later it detonated in a flurry of rotten body parts and bone, shrapnel pinging off of the surroundings with an audible ricochet sound that was buried once again beneath the flurry of gunfire the Master Chief continued to put out with a newly reloaded magazine.
The slide of her pistol racked back, empty, and she reloaded as the remaining tank form continued to press down on them, and then she saw it. The hilt of an energy sword sat on the ground, next to the piece of gold armor that had fallen near it, and she mentally thanked the Arbiter for bringing Elite swordsmen with him.
With the tank form closing fast, and the Master Chief dealing with other forms that were filling the void left by the first tank, she dove for the energy sword's hilt, snatching it up and going into a roll before she came up and, with the flick of her wrist, the sword activated and came up in an arc as quick as a bolt of lightning, and separated the tank form's arm from its body. A roar and another move, and a leg was gone, until she had bisected the massive Flood creature and left it dead on the ground.
With her pistol in one hand, firing again, and her new energy sword alight with burning plasma, she started to mow the Flood forms down, working with the Chief in a way that needed no words, just like the fight up the bridge. Now, they were fighting their way back through it, their battle far from over.
Guns continued their endless chatter, spitting brass and fire and lead until they were dry, discarded and replaced with plasma rifles and spikers, until they had fought their way through most of the forces in front of them, weapons nearing empty and with no suitable replacements. Red dots continued to come from either side of the bridge, climbing up and over to engage the Spartans. It never subsided, nor waned, merely replenishing losses with every new form the Spartans killed being replaced by two more.
Morgan saw the light at the end of the tunnel, though, their way out of this nightmare, and she called out for him to follow her, before she broke out into a full blown sprint, ignoring the Flood forms still in her way. One reared back with a whip like arm, and she put on a burst of speed that she knew would tear something, and rather than dodge, she closed enough distance that she simply rammed the Flood form, ripping it to pieces and covering her blue armor in green gore as she stormed through the other side and made for the lift with the Master Chief close on her heels.
The sound of several grenade pins being pulled was caught, and then the rattle of them rolling across the ground, and a green status light came back to her before a half dozen explosions went off in their wake.
It didn't stop the multitude of red signatures chasing after them, though. There was a hole on the other side of the lift, one that would be faster than dealing with the slow moving lift, and without thinking too much about it, she pushed off of the ground and took to the air. Her legs pushed out first, stopping her forward momentum when she slammed into the back wall of the chute that led down.
Armor sparked and screeched as she pushed her arms to either side of herself and descended into the darkness, trying to slow her fall even as more sparks fell from above and covered her head and shoulders with the addition of the Chief on her like a shadow.
They fell, further and further, until the light at the bottom began to reach them, and Morgan came down in a heap of armor and limbs, struggling to fight against the sudden impact and push herself out of the way before the heavy form of the Chief hit the ground behind her, landing far more gracefully.
As she lay on the ground, the pain in her chest increasing again, she stared at the ceiling and lay on her back. A green armored hand reached out to her, and she followed it back to the impassive visor that it belonged to. She slowly reached out to it, grabbing hold and being pulled to her feet.
"Are you alright?" The deep voice asked. She frowned in her helmet. No, she wasn't, but that wouldn't be the right answer for a Spartan.
"Still breathing," she replied, and shook her head to clear it before she looked around them, and when she looked to the right, she saw something that made her forget about the pain. A blue figure skipped across the corridor she stared down, blinking like a damaged hologram, until it disappeared around the corner.
Pushing past the other Spartan without a word, she followed after it, seeking out the woman she had seen. He followed behind in silence, unsure of what she had seen, but following nonetheless.
When she rounded the corner, she saw the blue back once again for only a second, before it disappeared. Her frown deepened, and she picked up her pace, not wanting to let her go again. The second corner came and went as she rounded it, and a flash of blue against a dead end was all that met her, the figure gone as if it had never existed, and she wanted to curse.
A control panel sat waiting, lit with a single icon that blinked, as if Cortana had left it for them. She moved for it, her hand coming up and pressing against it before it went dark again and the wall in front of them split down the middle, revealing the late evening sky and the clouds in front of them.
Morgan wanted to sigh, to grow annoyed with it all, but the air seemed to change, and she saw the Master Chief tense on the peripherals of her vision. He barely moved, but Spartans had long ago grown accustomed to the nearly nonexistent movements that were the only expressions they had in their armor, and she realized why as a massive structure rose out of the cloud bank that spread out in front of them.
Another Halo ring rose from the Ark's core, partially complete and missing several core areas that were covered in scaffolding miles across and likely just as thick. He was the one that spoke, angrily, at the humming that she could even now faintly hear.
"When did you know?"
It was an accusation, one that was pointed with heat that she hadn't heard from the other Spartan before.
343 Guilty Spark, hovering around them slowly, almost abashed at it. "Just now. But… I had my hopes. What will you do?"
The Master Chief wasted no time, his words a growl, through gritted teeth and a forward motion that might have been the beginning of a lunge at the orb. "Light it."
Spark, seemingly missing the point the Chief was making, grew excited, bobbing up and down as his tone changed to a happier note. "Wonderful! Then we are agreed! A tactical pulse will completely eradicate the local infestation! I will see to the preparations personally" He bobbed again, spinning and moving to fly off towards the partially completed ring. "It will take time to fabricate a new activation index, I will see to the letter that..."
His voice trailed off, and Morgan felt her shoulders dip as she thought about it. The Flood was already crawling over the Ark. If they made it to the new Halo ring as well, it would be a fight. They would need to activate it without the allied forces being around. Who else could do it but them without risking death in the face of it all?
She had no idea, but in the distance she could see the Shadow of Intent hanging with a few of its remaining CCS class battlecruisers, and the tiny dot of the Forward Unto Dawn nearby. A Pelican was inbound, a dot slowly growing into the shape of the transport aircraft.
They would be leaving one fight and stepping into another, and there wasn't much time. She wouldn't be able to fix herself. They needed every Spartan in the fight, and if she didn't make it, then so be it. She just wanted it all to end.
Looking to the other Spartan, she called out to him. "Chief, promise me something."
His visor tilted and his gravelly voice answered. "Name it."
"Promise me that if I don't make it through this, you'll make it count."
Tell 'em to make it count
"I promise." His words were filled with with determination, his voice hard and unyielding against even the potential of the Flood standing in his way.
Don't make a girl a promise, if you know you can't keep it.
Cortana's words rang in her ears, and she looked off into the distance, far up one of the Ark's arms where the ruins of High Charity sat smoldering where they had fallen, and she realized what she had to do.
"We're going to High Charity."