Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not Halo or anything else.
If you are at all interested, or disinterested, please let me now. I don't know whether or no' I should continue with this fic if no-one is interested.
Oh yeah, there's an autopsy here, so be warned. It gets rather.... Gribbly.
&&&&&&
T'lasarnum walked into the detention area, the dull sheen of the holding-pens fields giving the room a dull midnight-light aura. He nodded at the Elite who was currently on duty. The Elite bowed, respecting T'lasarnum's rank.
He dismissed the guard with a hand signal, and waited for the Elite to leave. As the door shut behind him, T'lasarnum turned to face one of the holding pens.
The man was haggard and grey-faced, but scars liberally adorning his head and body indicated that he was an experienced warrior. The man had been subdued after a lengthy fight, his shield protecting him from harm until a soldier had managed to bypass the field and destroy the generator.
T'lasarnum deactivated the field separating him from the human. Before his hand had left the control panel, the man rushed forward, kicking out at the Ship Master's knee, trying to break it.
T'lasarnum, however anticipated such an attack, and leapt back slightly, avoiding the blow. He then reached forward grabbing the man under his jaw, lifting him off of the deck. A careless flick of the hand, and the man was sprawled back in the cell.
T'lasarnum drew a pistol, holding it at his side so the human could see it. The man dropped back, and slumped against the wall. T'lasarnum unclipped a personal translator, and put it to his mouth.
"What is your name, human?" He barked. The man ignored him. T'lasarnum repeated the request. The man stared at him, then gave a contemptuous snort. Again T'lasarnum repeated himself. Again the man ignored him.
The Ship Master's foot connected with the man's nose, splintering it in a shower of red blood. The man gasped in pain, his eyes instinctively closed tight from the blow. T'lasarnum waited for the human to stop writhing, and then repeated his request.
"Colonel Bashar Halloway." He groaned. T'lasarnum nodded in approval.
"First most, I apologise for that blow then. However, you were not supplying me with answers, and I could not accept that." T'lasarnum holstered the side-arm, and looked as benevolent as he could. "Now, are you willing to cooperate in this interrogation?"
The man shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not."
The Elite grabbed him by the throat, and threw him against the cell ceiling. Half-way down his fall, T'lasarnum kicked out lazily, slamming him against the wall with a bone-jarring thud.
"Wrong answer, Colonel Bashar Halloway." T'lasarnum stated as the man huddled on the metal floor. "I'll ask again-"
"Yes! Yes!" Halloway cried, tears running down his face.
"Good." T'lasarnum started to pace the cell, his head cocked in thought, his toes tapping irregularly. He turned back to Halloway, and began.
"My analysists have gone over written records of your universe's history." He said, holding up a portable terminal. "Most enlightening, Colonel Bashar Halloway." He tapped a few buttons, and more information flickered past his face. "Your race has survived many thousand years, having flourished twice, once when you had defeated the 'machines', and the second when 'Maud'dib' arose from..." He peered at the text. "...Arrakis. Is this not so?"
Halloway nodded, cradling his bruised ribs.
"I also have detailed reports on the Emperor, the Spacing Guild, the Bene Gesserit, the Bene Tleilaxu, CHOAM... I am surprised that your race has survived such a bureaucratic rule." T'lasarnum snorted. "No wonder the Gods dictated your elimination."
"Your Gods?" Halloway wheezed, then snorted. "That's rich. You have no true belief. Your Gods do not exist."
T'lasarnum raised his fist, then lowered it, and tipped his head to the left, and consulted the terminal again.
"My Gods do not exist, is that so?" T'lasarnum mused. "I would find it hard to accept any theological points of views from a person who had all religions confirm to one through..." His tone became sardonic. "...diplomatic reasoning."
T'lasarnum looked back at Halloway "You do realise that I am referring to the Commission of Ecumenical Translators and the formation of the 'Orange Catholic Bible'. I have read that book. Most amusing, with applicable and easy to remember passages, I must admit, but with no fervour, no real passion behind it."
He started to pace again. "Your religion was formed in order to quell dissent and make peace, not determine what was right. Your religion was altered for the people, instead of your people altering themselves for their religion, and you have the audacity to claim my religion is false?"
T'lasarnum lunged out again, picking Halloway off of the ground. "I want you to realise this, human, Colonel Bashar Halloway, or whatever you wish to address yourself. You are going to die after this interrogation, as a form of penance, but listen carefully;"
"Even though my religion formed from violence, pain and suffering, from war and conflict and lives, we never tortured, enslaved, degraded, mutilated and humiliated anybody, and called it morally right."
T'lasarnum dropped Halloway onto the floor, then tipped him so he was facing him. "Tell me what you know about the Command Centre."
&&&&&&
Bomoko rubbed his forehead wearily as information flickered past his face and Ingsley's frantic talking floated past his ears.
"So, let me get this straight. This 'weapons cache' was not so much of an armoury, more of a research station to study some form of 'viral' type creature called: 'The Flood'. We have released these creatures, and now they are spreading around the Halo at an unimaginable rate." He looked at the other Mentat with a raised eyebrow. "Am I right?"
Ingsley nodded.
"And here I was thinking that this was going to be an easy mission." Bomoko muttered. "Do you have any good news for me?"
"Well, several Flood swarms have overcome several Covenant positions." Then Ingsley muttered. "However, they have also overrun some of our positions too."
"The group from the 'cache' managed to retrieve one Flood organisms, a 'mutated' form. We have a Suk doctor performing an autopsy on the creature." Idaho muttered from the ledge overlooking the chasm.
Bomoko got up with an angry sigh, and started to pace the room. "So, we have found no weapons, released another enemy from this Halo, and lost several soldiers and a Carryall when we extracted our men from the 'cache'." Bomoko turned to Ingsley. "How did these creatures manage to do that?"
"Well, despite their 'swarming' tactics and transforming biology, they are quite intelligent. Smart enough to lay traps and use technology."
"Smart enough to use a Covenant ship?" Idaho asked from his crouched position on the floor.
Again, Ingsley nodded.
"Well, that's it, then." Bomoko stated. "We have to begin our strike as soon as possible. Send the 'thopter wings to their target ship, the tank convoy to their target ship, and I'll prepare the assault on the last two craft."
He walked back over to the Command Centre. "However, I'll need to see the group who escaped from the 'cache' in the first place..."
&&&&&&
Aeroeals'Haron walked out of his quarters and headed towards the storage area, intent on removing a substantial portion of this miracle substance 'Melange'. It was something unique. He knew it. Clearly the Gods wished them to find this universe in order to discover this substance, for each intake of it took his psyche to another level. A level beyond normal thinking...
He walked into the room, and checked for any guards around the Melange. Seeing none, he quickly extracted several handfuls and put it inside a small, easily hidden container. He backed out of the room, and bumped into a Sergeant Elite.
"Apologises sir!" The Elite muttered hastily, bowing his head slightly. "I did not see you there."
"Obviously not." Aeroeals'Haron replied in an annoyed fashion. "Now will you please move aside? I have many duties to attend to."
The Elite bowed again, and then stopped, seeing Aeroeals'Haron's face for the first time. "Sir, do you feel well?"
"More than well, my brother." Aeroeals'Haron said. If only you knew, if only you could comprehend... he thought to himself.
"It's just that your eyes..." The Elite gestured vaguely. Aeroeals'Haron removed his portable terminal from its holster and switched the screen to 'mirror mode'. He nearly jumped back. His eyes had changed pigmentation from a normal yellowish hue to a stark dark-indigo ink blue. He peered closer and noted with a pang of shock that he himself could not distinguish his pupils from the rest of his eye.
"A minor colouration experiment." He lied. "In order to gain a further advantage over the humans." The Elite would accept that excuse without question, Aeroeals'Haron thought quickly. However this was not foremost in his mind.
Why are my eyes colouring? Is there some form of side-affect I had not anticipated...? Aeroeals'Haron walked back to his quarters, unaware that his body chemistry and metabolism was being quietly altered and changed by the Melange, making his body irreversibly addicted to it...
&&&&&&
Doctor Abu Zide sighed and rubbed his eyebrows in an annoyed fashion, his fingers brushing the stark diamond tattoo on his forehead. He picked up an old-fashioned scalpel and activated the voice-recorder.
"Autopsy commencing at 0300 hours by Old Earth time on December the thirtieth on subject one. Subject is of an unknown organism, which has suffered death from multiple physical traumas including but not limited to multiple bullet impacts."
Zide switched the recorder off, walked around the dissection table, and switched it back on. "Subject has left arm completely removed due to haphazard death. Descriptions of the arm indicate that the creature had grown some form of new organ used to bludgeon opponents with, however, said limb is not present for autopsy."
He placed the scalpel at the tip of the creatures' collarbone. "Fist incision occurs just below the sternum..." The blade split cold clammy flesh, cut through the breast bone, and the whole chest cavity split open with a cracking sound like a crushed mussel.
"Intriguing..." Zide muttered. "Blood appears to be absent from subjects' tissues. Instead, most organs appear to be..." He sampled some of the stuff. "...a clear, grey-green, non-viscous fluid which will be sampled by other Doctors at the Suk major medical research station." He cut off the recorder, and then muttered. "That is if we ever get out of here alive."
He activated the recorder. "New organs appear to have grown, six tubes from the head to a large sac-like organ under the heart and above the stomach." He cut further into the corpse, then paused, noting black flaky material being jolted out through major arteries. He adjusted the blade, cutting through the heart. He reached a sheathed hand into the cut organ, and removed a small handful of spongy black-red material. The diamond tattoo wrinkled in disgust.
"Let the record note that there is still blood present in the subject, except it has clotted in the vessels." He threw the material into a tray and retched silently. "Most organs and nerves appear to be in forms of self-cannibalism, leaving only main nerves and bone structure intact."
He exchanged tools. "Subjects' head has been damaged from external trauma, from when the soldiers attempted to 'subdue' it..." His eyes caught a metal sparkle. His hand quickly shot out, a snake striking, and then removed a dog tag. "Subject is wearing dog tags upon which a 'Private Jenkins, Wallace A.' has been stamped."
He raised the head saw, and began to saw through the creatures' skull. A few seconds passed, and he had removed the crown. "That is queer..." Zide muttered. "Subject's brain, besides from damage from the blows to the head it received, appears to be mostly intact. In fact..." He cut through the rest of the head, and removed the brain. "...the organ is completely undamaged. However, the six new tubes from the sac-organ have penetrated the brain just behind the pituitary gland."
A quick cut, and the brain was in two halves. "Tubes lead to the centre of the brain, near the end of the cerebellum. Nothing else has been altered or damaged via exposure to biological agent."
Sweat trickled into Zide's eyes, as he went back to the new organ. "Beginning autopsy of sac-organ..." A few slashes, and it was eviscerated. "Good God..." He whispered, his eyes widening despite the harsh glare of artificial lighting. "There are six chambers in the organ, each one connected to one individual tube. Inside each chamber..." He swallowed, and felt slightly nauseous
"Appear to be immature versions of the 'carrier' form of organism. He flicked the scalpel over the flaccid creatures. "All appear thankfully dead, with no response to external trauma. It appears as if the new organ is some form of womb for these asexually formed creatures." Zide stepped back.
"Besides from these preliminary investigations by myself, I see no further change in subject's internal chemistry. Let it be known that aides shall take pictures of the remains of the autopsy." Zide switched the recorder off, left the room, taking off his surgical clothing as he did so, and then was noisily sick.
&&&&&&
Idaho paced in front of the conscripts who had survived the 'cache' attack, and who had revealed the Flood to the humans. He turned on one foot to face them, a wisp of hair fluttering over his bald spot as he did so.
"Men, you are being debriefed by me concerning your recent experience in combat. First let me apologise."
"It was my fault letting you go out there unprepared. We thought there would be something to help us fight these creatures, and I was naïve and impatient enough to let you in there without good intelligence. Hence, you have my apologises and condolences. We've lost many a man and friend to those vile things." He bowed his head.
"However, I must request you to do one last thing before we initiate our final strike."
"You must be willing to brief all of our men on this new threat. We have arranged briefings for you to take. You have had the most experience with these creatures, so you are our best hope at defeating them."
"Tell all the soldiers you can find how to destroy these creatures, and do so quickly. You have my blessings. The hand and will of God be with you. Dismissed."
The assorted troops slowly filed out. "Except you, Pardee!" Idaho snapped. "You can stay right here..."
&&&&&&
Pardee sat down in the middle of the room, where two Sarduakar stood guard, their weapons armed. Bomoko and Ingsley both stood in a corner. Idaho looked at him grimly, and then cracked his knuckles.
"I have to admit, Pardee, you had us convinced for a very long time." Idaho began. "Your personal record and army recruitment pass were impeccable. Because they were. We had anticipated that any spy would try to fake these papers, and so with such valid papers as yourself, we had no reason to suspect you."
Idaho smiled. "However, in our anxious need to destroy this planetoid, we had overlooked one slight thing. We had forgotten there was one type of spy in this universe which could pass rigorous training for the military undetected. Do you see where I am getting at?" Pardee shook his head, angrily.
Idaho continued. "During the siege of the first frigate, my eye code was acknowledged by a sealed door, one which was used to quarantine an area where you and a Private Byrnes were stationed." Idaho smiled in a condescending manner. "Now, I do not remember being present on that ship when the siege was occurring. Neither can I remember being at that area where you were defending. Do you know of such a person who can fake an eye scan?" Pardee shook his head, slowly.
Idaho continued. "We have some interesting information as well, Pardee. You were stationed on Wallach IV, and were picked up by the local drafting ships, where you were tested, trained etc. etc. It is a little- known fact that the conscripts are chosen before the ships land. It is not some ham-fisted approach to get quick soldiers. You see, we had our eye on you for some time now, Pardee. When you were accepted, all seemed fine. Up until a point your corpse was found floating face-down in a river with a knife in your back."
Idaho raised an eyebrow. "Well, for a corpse, you certainly seem quite lively. What's your secret? Early-morning jogs? Fresh fruit and vegetables?" Pardee shook his head slightly. "Bene Tleilaxu genetic trickery? Is that right, you Face Dancer?"
Pardee's expression changed in all senses of the word. His face seemed to lose distinguishing characteristics, becoming pliable and blank, like warm clay. His face changed, this time adopting the expression and features of Captain Idaho.
The Sarduakar raised their weapons, but Bomoko quickly made a negative hand gesture. Pardee sneered at Idaho. "What are you planning to do to me? Keep in mind that an execution would be a gift to me. The Bene Tleilaxu would do worse if they realised I has been exposed."
Idaho smiled slightly, looking quite carnivorous. "No." He made a slight hand gesture, and two more guards entered, carrying the corpse of an Elite. "I have a different plan for you..."
&&&&&&
Chakosba growled in annoyance from his Banshee cockpit. His strike squad had managed to track down several human groups, destroying them with righteous plasma, but none of the groups had been a serious contender for the hidden human base. For inferior creatures, he thought, they were certainly highly cunning.
The flight group swung over the smoking wreckage of a group of trikes, their wheeled forms now burning hulks, their passengers melted into the liquid metal, fat and flesh running with white-hot iron. No humans were present.
A chime interrupted his scanning, and a small screen formed in front of him, a message from the Ship Master of the fleet. He halted his vessel, putting it into 'hover' mode. The escort Banshees, not anticipating such a move, sped on ahead, and had to turn back.
Chakosba quickly scanned the message. The Ship Master had preformed an interrogation, and received the following information of several supply depots, troop emplacements and... His eyes narrowed in hungry anticipation, the new position of the human Command Centre. He closed the message, then sent the coordinates to the rest of the flight group.
Here would be a fight to please the Gods, with no doubt!
&&&&&&
I know these are kinda late, but hey, "better late then never":
X-Over: Thanks for the input, friend, hope the updates have been entertaining and what you expected.
Hate-me17: Any origin to the name? Sorry, there won't be a space- battle, but there will be a dog-fight.
LXC: THERE THERE THERE! You happy?
If you are at all interested, or disinterested, please let me now. I don't know whether or no' I should continue with this fic if no-one is interested.
Oh yeah, there's an autopsy here, so be warned. It gets rather.... Gribbly.
&&&&&&
T'lasarnum walked into the detention area, the dull sheen of the holding-pens fields giving the room a dull midnight-light aura. He nodded at the Elite who was currently on duty. The Elite bowed, respecting T'lasarnum's rank.
He dismissed the guard with a hand signal, and waited for the Elite to leave. As the door shut behind him, T'lasarnum turned to face one of the holding pens.
The man was haggard and grey-faced, but scars liberally adorning his head and body indicated that he was an experienced warrior. The man had been subdued after a lengthy fight, his shield protecting him from harm until a soldier had managed to bypass the field and destroy the generator.
T'lasarnum deactivated the field separating him from the human. Before his hand had left the control panel, the man rushed forward, kicking out at the Ship Master's knee, trying to break it.
T'lasarnum, however anticipated such an attack, and leapt back slightly, avoiding the blow. He then reached forward grabbing the man under his jaw, lifting him off of the deck. A careless flick of the hand, and the man was sprawled back in the cell.
T'lasarnum drew a pistol, holding it at his side so the human could see it. The man dropped back, and slumped against the wall. T'lasarnum unclipped a personal translator, and put it to his mouth.
"What is your name, human?" He barked. The man ignored him. T'lasarnum repeated the request. The man stared at him, then gave a contemptuous snort. Again T'lasarnum repeated himself. Again the man ignored him.
The Ship Master's foot connected with the man's nose, splintering it in a shower of red blood. The man gasped in pain, his eyes instinctively closed tight from the blow. T'lasarnum waited for the human to stop writhing, and then repeated his request.
"Colonel Bashar Halloway." He groaned. T'lasarnum nodded in approval.
"First most, I apologise for that blow then. However, you were not supplying me with answers, and I could not accept that." T'lasarnum holstered the side-arm, and looked as benevolent as he could. "Now, are you willing to cooperate in this interrogation?"
The man shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not."
The Elite grabbed him by the throat, and threw him against the cell ceiling. Half-way down his fall, T'lasarnum kicked out lazily, slamming him against the wall with a bone-jarring thud.
"Wrong answer, Colonel Bashar Halloway." T'lasarnum stated as the man huddled on the metal floor. "I'll ask again-"
"Yes! Yes!" Halloway cried, tears running down his face.
"Good." T'lasarnum started to pace the cell, his head cocked in thought, his toes tapping irregularly. He turned back to Halloway, and began.
"My analysists have gone over written records of your universe's history." He said, holding up a portable terminal. "Most enlightening, Colonel Bashar Halloway." He tapped a few buttons, and more information flickered past his face. "Your race has survived many thousand years, having flourished twice, once when you had defeated the 'machines', and the second when 'Maud'dib' arose from..." He peered at the text. "...Arrakis. Is this not so?"
Halloway nodded, cradling his bruised ribs.
"I also have detailed reports on the Emperor, the Spacing Guild, the Bene Gesserit, the Bene Tleilaxu, CHOAM... I am surprised that your race has survived such a bureaucratic rule." T'lasarnum snorted. "No wonder the Gods dictated your elimination."
"Your Gods?" Halloway wheezed, then snorted. "That's rich. You have no true belief. Your Gods do not exist."
T'lasarnum raised his fist, then lowered it, and tipped his head to the left, and consulted the terminal again.
"My Gods do not exist, is that so?" T'lasarnum mused. "I would find it hard to accept any theological points of views from a person who had all religions confirm to one through..." His tone became sardonic. "...diplomatic reasoning."
T'lasarnum looked back at Halloway "You do realise that I am referring to the Commission of Ecumenical Translators and the formation of the 'Orange Catholic Bible'. I have read that book. Most amusing, with applicable and easy to remember passages, I must admit, but with no fervour, no real passion behind it."
He started to pace again. "Your religion was formed in order to quell dissent and make peace, not determine what was right. Your religion was altered for the people, instead of your people altering themselves for their religion, and you have the audacity to claim my religion is false?"
T'lasarnum lunged out again, picking Halloway off of the ground. "I want you to realise this, human, Colonel Bashar Halloway, or whatever you wish to address yourself. You are going to die after this interrogation, as a form of penance, but listen carefully;"
"Even though my religion formed from violence, pain and suffering, from war and conflict and lives, we never tortured, enslaved, degraded, mutilated and humiliated anybody, and called it morally right."
T'lasarnum dropped Halloway onto the floor, then tipped him so he was facing him. "Tell me what you know about the Command Centre."
&&&&&&
Bomoko rubbed his forehead wearily as information flickered past his face and Ingsley's frantic talking floated past his ears.
"So, let me get this straight. This 'weapons cache' was not so much of an armoury, more of a research station to study some form of 'viral' type creature called: 'The Flood'. We have released these creatures, and now they are spreading around the Halo at an unimaginable rate." He looked at the other Mentat with a raised eyebrow. "Am I right?"
Ingsley nodded.
"And here I was thinking that this was going to be an easy mission." Bomoko muttered. "Do you have any good news for me?"
"Well, several Flood swarms have overcome several Covenant positions." Then Ingsley muttered. "However, they have also overrun some of our positions too."
"The group from the 'cache' managed to retrieve one Flood organisms, a 'mutated' form. We have a Suk doctor performing an autopsy on the creature." Idaho muttered from the ledge overlooking the chasm.
Bomoko got up with an angry sigh, and started to pace the room. "So, we have found no weapons, released another enemy from this Halo, and lost several soldiers and a Carryall when we extracted our men from the 'cache'." Bomoko turned to Ingsley. "How did these creatures manage to do that?"
"Well, despite their 'swarming' tactics and transforming biology, they are quite intelligent. Smart enough to lay traps and use technology."
"Smart enough to use a Covenant ship?" Idaho asked from his crouched position on the floor.
Again, Ingsley nodded.
"Well, that's it, then." Bomoko stated. "We have to begin our strike as soon as possible. Send the 'thopter wings to their target ship, the tank convoy to their target ship, and I'll prepare the assault on the last two craft."
He walked back over to the Command Centre. "However, I'll need to see the group who escaped from the 'cache' in the first place..."
&&&&&&
Aeroeals'Haron walked out of his quarters and headed towards the storage area, intent on removing a substantial portion of this miracle substance 'Melange'. It was something unique. He knew it. Clearly the Gods wished them to find this universe in order to discover this substance, for each intake of it took his psyche to another level. A level beyond normal thinking...
He walked into the room, and checked for any guards around the Melange. Seeing none, he quickly extracted several handfuls and put it inside a small, easily hidden container. He backed out of the room, and bumped into a Sergeant Elite.
"Apologises sir!" The Elite muttered hastily, bowing his head slightly. "I did not see you there."
"Obviously not." Aeroeals'Haron replied in an annoyed fashion. "Now will you please move aside? I have many duties to attend to."
The Elite bowed again, and then stopped, seeing Aeroeals'Haron's face for the first time. "Sir, do you feel well?"
"More than well, my brother." Aeroeals'Haron said. If only you knew, if only you could comprehend... he thought to himself.
"It's just that your eyes..." The Elite gestured vaguely. Aeroeals'Haron removed his portable terminal from its holster and switched the screen to 'mirror mode'. He nearly jumped back. His eyes had changed pigmentation from a normal yellowish hue to a stark dark-indigo ink blue. He peered closer and noted with a pang of shock that he himself could not distinguish his pupils from the rest of his eye.
"A minor colouration experiment." He lied. "In order to gain a further advantage over the humans." The Elite would accept that excuse without question, Aeroeals'Haron thought quickly. However this was not foremost in his mind.
Why are my eyes colouring? Is there some form of side-affect I had not anticipated...? Aeroeals'Haron walked back to his quarters, unaware that his body chemistry and metabolism was being quietly altered and changed by the Melange, making his body irreversibly addicted to it...
&&&&&&
Doctor Abu Zide sighed and rubbed his eyebrows in an annoyed fashion, his fingers brushing the stark diamond tattoo on his forehead. He picked up an old-fashioned scalpel and activated the voice-recorder.
"Autopsy commencing at 0300 hours by Old Earth time on December the thirtieth on subject one. Subject is of an unknown organism, which has suffered death from multiple physical traumas including but not limited to multiple bullet impacts."
Zide switched the recorder off, walked around the dissection table, and switched it back on. "Subject has left arm completely removed due to haphazard death. Descriptions of the arm indicate that the creature had grown some form of new organ used to bludgeon opponents with, however, said limb is not present for autopsy."
He placed the scalpel at the tip of the creatures' collarbone. "Fist incision occurs just below the sternum..." The blade split cold clammy flesh, cut through the breast bone, and the whole chest cavity split open with a cracking sound like a crushed mussel.
"Intriguing..." Zide muttered. "Blood appears to be absent from subjects' tissues. Instead, most organs appear to be..." He sampled some of the stuff. "...a clear, grey-green, non-viscous fluid which will be sampled by other Doctors at the Suk major medical research station." He cut off the recorder, and then muttered. "That is if we ever get out of here alive."
He activated the recorder. "New organs appear to have grown, six tubes from the head to a large sac-like organ under the heart and above the stomach." He cut further into the corpse, then paused, noting black flaky material being jolted out through major arteries. He adjusted the blade, cutting through the heart. He reached a sheathed hand into the cut organ, and removed a small handful of spongy black-red material. The diamond tattoo wrinkled in disgust.
"Let the record note that there is still blood present in the subject, except it has clotted in the vessels." He threw the material into a tray and retched silently. "Most organs and nerves appear to be in forms of self-cannibalism, leaving only main nerves and bone structure intact."
He exchanged tools. "Subjects' head has been damaged from external trauma, from when the soldiers attempted to 'subdue' it..." His eyes caught a metal sparkle. His hand quickly shot out, a snake striking, and then removed a dog tag. "Subject is wearing dog tags upon which a 'Private Jenkins, Wallace A.' has been stamped."
He raised the head saw, and began to saw through the creatures' skull. A few seconds passed, and he had removed the crown. "That is queer..." Zide muttered. "Subject's brain, besides from damage from the blows to the head it received, appears to be mostly intact. In fact..." He cut through the rest of the head, and removed the brain. "...the organ is completely undamaged. However, the six new tubes from the sac-organ have penetrated the brain just behind the pituitary gland."
A quick cut, and the brain was in two halves. "Tubes lead to the centre of the brain, near the end of the cerebellum. Nothing else has been altered or damaged via exposure to biological agent."
Sweat trickled into Zide's eyes, as he went back to the new organ. "Beginning autopsy of sac-organ..." A few slashes, and it was eviscerated. "Good God..." He whispered, his eyes widening despite the harsh glare of artificial lighting. "There are six chambers in the organ, each one connected to one individual tube. Inside each chamber..." He swallowed, and felt slightly nauseous
"Appear to be immature versions of the 'carrier' form of organism. He flicked the scalpel over the flaccid creatures. "All appear thankfully dead, with no response to external trauma. It appears as if the new organ is some form of womb for these asexually formed creatures." Zide stepped back.
"Besides from these preliminary investigations by myself, I see no further change in subject's internal chemistry. Let it be known that aides shall take pictures of the remains of the autopsy." Zide switched the recorder off, left the room, taking off his surgical clothing as he did so, and then was noisily sick.
&&&&&&
Idaho paced in front of the conscripts who had survived the 'cache' attack, and who had revealed the Flood to the humans. He turned on one foot to face them, a wisp of hair fluttering over his bald spot as he did so.
"Men, you are being debriefed by me concerning your recent experience in combat. First let me apologise."
"It was my fault letting you go out there unprepared. We thought there would be something to help us fight these creatures, and I was naïve and impatient enough to let you in there without good intelligence. Hence, you have my apologises and condolences. We've lost many a man and friend to those vile things." He bowed his head.
"However, I must request you to do one last thing before we initiate our final strike."
"You must be willing to brief all of our men on this new threat. We have arranged briefings for you to take. You have had the most experience with these creatures, so you are our best hope at defeating them."
"Tell all the soldiers you can find how to destroy these creatures, and do so quickly. You have my blessings. The hand and will of God be with you. Dismissed."
The assorted troops slowly filed out. "Except you, Pardee!" Idaho snapped. "You can stay right here..."
&&&&&&
Pardee sat down in the middle of the room, where two Sarduakar stood guard, their weapons armed. Bomoko and Ingsley both stood in a corner. Idaho looked at him grimly, and then cracked his knuckles.
"I have to admit, Pardee, you had us convinced for a very long time." Idaho began. "Your personal record and army recruitment pass were impeccable. Because they were. We had anticipated that any spy would try to fake these papers, and so with such valid papers as yourself, we had no reason to suspect you."
Idaho smiled. "However, in our anxious need to destroy this planetoid, we had overlooked one slight thing. We had forgotten there was one type of spy in this universe which could pass rigorous training for the military undetected. Do you see where I am getting at?" Pardee shook his head, angrily.
Idaho continued. "During the siege of the first frigate, my eye code was acknowledged by a sealed door, one which was used to quarantine an area where you and a Private Byrnes were stationed." Idaho smiled in a condescending manner. "Now, I do not remember being present on that ship when the siege was occurring. Neither can I remember being at that area where you were defending. Do you know of such a person who can fake an eye scan?" Pardee shook his head, slowly.
Idaho continued. "We have some interesting information as well, Pardee. You were stationed on Wallach IV, and were picked up by the local drafting ships, where you were tested, trained etc. etc. It is a little- known fact that the conscripts are chosen before the ships land. It is not some ham-fisted approach to get quick soldiers. You see, we had our eye on you for some time now, Pardee. When you were accepted, all seemed fine. Up until a point your corpse was found floating face-down in a river with a knife in your back."
Idaho raised an eyebrow. "Well, for a corpse, you certainly seem quite lively. What's your secret? Early-morning jogs? Fresh fruit and vegetables?" Pardee shook his head slightly. "Bene Tleilaxu genetic trickery? Is that right, you Face Dancer?"
Pardee's expression changed in all senses of the word. His face seemed to lose distinguishing characteristics, becoming pliable and blank, like warm clay. His face changed, this time adopting the expression and features of Captain Idaho.
The Sarduakar raised their weapons, but Bomoko quickly made a negative hand gesture. Pardee sneered at Idaho. "What are you planning to do to me? Keep in mind that an execution would be a gift to me. The Bene Tleilaxu would do worse if they realised I has been exposed."
Idaho smiled slightly, looking quite carnivorous. "No." He made a slight hand gesture, and two more guards entered, carrying the corpse of an Elite. "I have a different plan for you..."
&&&&&&
Chakosba growled in annoyance from his Banshee cockpit. His strike squad had managed to track down several human groups, destroying them with righteous plasma, but none of the groups had been a serious contender for the hidden human base. For inferior creatures, he thought, they were certainly highly cunning.
The flight group swung over the smoking wreckage of a group of trikes, their wheeled forms now burning hulks, their passengers melted into the liquid metal, fat and flesh running with white-hot iron. No humans were present.
A chime interrupted his scanning, and a small screen formed in front of him, a message from the Ship Master of the fleet. He halted his vessel, putting it into 'hover' mode. The escort Banshees, not anticipating such a move, sped on ahead, and had to turn back.
Chakosba quickly scanned the message. The Ship Master had preformed an interrogation, and received the following information of several supply depots, troop emplacements and... His eyes narrowed in hungry anticipation, the new position of the human Command Centre. He closed the message, then sent the coordinates to the rest of the flight group.
Here would be a fight to please the Gods, with no doubt!
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I know these are kinda late, but hey, "better late then never":
X-Over: Thanks for the input, friend, hope the updates have been entertaining and what you expected.
Hate-me17: Any origin to the name? Sorry, there won't be a space- battle, but there will be a dog-fight.
LXC: THERE THERE THERE! You happy?