Disclaimer: Halo belongs to Bungie and Microsoft. I prefer to think I own
the characters I make up in this story but if you really want them, don't
sue me, I love my books.
Sitting in the cockpit of the Wraith tank, Balask 'Zakamee contemplated his life as Halo disintegrated around him. 'Zakamee hadn't lived such a bad life. He had made it to the ranks of Spec Ops and had killed many humans. Scratching his silver armor he thought back to what had just happened, it seemed mostly a blur. He and a small contingent of original Covenant warriors, not members of the special Ship Cleansing strike team, had been defending a small hill for an entire day with nothing more than a Wraith, some Shade turrets, and two Ghost's. The Flood had bombarded his position with all manners of weapons and troops. The only thing that let his small command live so long was that the Flood always attacked in an undisciplined wave with targets easily grouped for the mortar tank's convenience.
He had felt awfully good at that time and had thought they might actually survive until the Flood used a new weapon. The attack had begun as usual, with Flood combat forms appearing from nowhere and charging the entrenched Covenant. A lone combat form, a former Elite, survived the initial barrage and hurled a canister of some sort towards the Wraith. The tank slid to the right to dodge the projectile and a Ghost finished off the lone combatant. 'Zakamee thought this skirmish over when the canister hit the ground and sprayed this vile, green gas all over the place. The gas moved quickly across the ground and swirled over the Wraith and a group of wounded soldiers. Immediately those soldiers started hacking and coughing, eventually freezing up in place or convulsing. The wind pushed the gas away from the main battle line but it still swept through the right flank. Whomever it touched fell to this mystery illness and soon, only the Grunts were left to stare confusedly at the fallen forms all around them. The Grunts were unaffected by the Human nerve gas because of the breather masks they must use to keep themselves alive. For once the masks, too easily removed or broken, came in handy.
The Hunter near to 'Zakamee let out a long moan as his bond brother toppled, and slumped to the ground in despair. The Grunts caught in the gas started to panic until 'Zakamee ordered them to stop and drag the fallen troops to the medical tent. The gas itself dissipated quickly, but not after reducing 'Zakamee's forces by half their number. As the Grunts worked at removing the bodies and incinerating them to prevent Flood infection, 'Zakamee ran over to the Wraith. The tank itself had been unharmed but the warrior inside had apparently wondered what was going on and so cracked the hatch. His dead body still hung over one side of the tank. Shoving the body of former Major Sama 'Cratamee aside he entered the cockpit and checked the motion sensors. Red blips covered the area at the tank's rear. Momentarily marveling at the Flood's ingenuity he shouted to his troops to defend themselves and sealed the hatch.
Several long minutes of fighting soon left 'Zakamee with himself, a Ghost, a few Jackels, and two of his fellow Elite's. As he was about to order their final charge, the ground shook and didn't stop shaking. A Jackel yelled something about the sky falling, but his transmission was soon lost. The rumbling continued unabated and 'Zakamee looked out the viewport to a scene you might have seen in Hell. The ground itself was upheaving and in some places breaking loose and floating, no, falling upwards. The Flood were gone, as were the last of his comrades that he had so faithfully fought with. A chunk of debris hit the Wraith and caused it to loose all connection to the ground. As he floated upwards out of what remained of Halo's atmosphere he saw a huge piece of the ring world hit the opposite side, and the whole construct broke apart.
* * * * * *
'Zakamee broke out of his reverie and noticed something bleeping on his COM channel. Maybe he wasn't dead yet! 'Zakamee quickly pressed the acknowledge button on the control pad.
"This is Ship Master Huga 'Rolamee of the flagship Ascendant Justice. Any Covenant survivors respond. Several ships are here to rescue you. Acknowledge." the thick gravelly voice reminded 'Zakamee of his old friend, now long gone to Flood infection. 'Zakamee had had to shoot his former comrade himself.
"Yes I hear you Ship Master. This is Special Operations Elite Balask 'Zakamee sir. I am stranded in this tank and require immediate assistance." Said 'Zakamee eagerly.
"Someone's actually on that hunk of junk?" the Ship Master's tone proclaimed much surprise. "I have ordered my second to come about on your position. We should arrive in about three units. May the Gods be with you soldier."
'Zakamee cut communications after the Ship Master did, his hand shook in the joy that he was feeling, but also the shame. In such an honorable society that he lived in he might be considered cowardly, since 'Zakamee lived through a battle where all others had perished, and such a label was worse than death to any other Elite. Any normal Elite would have died an honorable death with the rest of his brothers, but that was just not 'Zakamee's way. He was a pragmatic realist in an army mostly made of fanatical zealots, at least with the Elite's this was true.
'Zakamee forced himself to stop thinking along those lines and instead concentrated on his imminent rescue. He looked out the viewport again and saw the Ascendant Justice, its bright purple hull gleaming in the light of the gas giant's, Threshold's, sun. Its many plasma turrets tracked constantly, the Elite in charge of the weapons anxious to find a target. The flagship got even bigger as it approached his wrecked tank. As the ship closed to within a few hundred units of his drifting tank 'Zakamee noticed his vision narrowing. He looked frantically around the cockpit for some sign of a leak and found where a Human projectile weapon wielded in non- Human hands had made an infinitesimal crack in the armor. He hastened to close the hole but he could feel himself grow weaker. He attempted to block the air's way out with his hand and it seemed to work for a few moments. As his vision grew to a narrow point he thought about how close he had been to surviving the Flood.
Sitting in the cockpit of the Wraith tank, Balask 'Zakamee contemplated his life as Halo disintegrated around him. 'Zakamee hadn't lived such a bad life. He had made it to the ranks of Spec Ops and had killed many humans. Scratching his silver armor he thought back to what had just happened, it seemed mostly a blur. He and a small contingent of original Covenant warriors, not members of the special Ship Cleansing strike team, had been defending a small hill for an entire day with nothing more than a Wraith, some Shade turrets, and two Ghost's. The Flood had bombarded his position with all manners of weapons and troops. The only thing that let his small command live so long was that the Flood always attacked in an undisciplined wave with targets easily grouped for the mortar tank's convenience.
He had felt awfully good at that time and had thought they might actually survive until the Flood used a new weapon. The attack had begun as usual, with Flood combat forms appearing from nowhere and charging the entrenched Covenant. A lone combat form, a former Elite, survived the initial barrage and hurled a canister of some sort towards the Wraith. The tank slid to the right to dodge the projectile and a Ghost finished off the lone combatant. 'Zakamee thought this skirmish over when the canister hit the ground and sprayed this vile, green gas all over the place. The gas moved quickly across the ground and swirled over the Wraith and a group of wounded soldiers. Immediately those soldiers started hacking and coughing, eventually freezing up in place or convulsing. The wind pushed the gas away from the main battle line but it still swept through the right flank. Whomever it touched fell to this mystery illness and soon, only the Grunts were left to stare confusedly at the fallen forms all around them. The Grunts were unaffected by the Human nerve gas because of the breather masks they must use to keep themselves alive. For once the masks, too easily removed or broken, came in handy.
The Hunter near to 'Zakamee let out a long moan as his bond brother toppled, and slumped to the ground in despair. The Grunts caught in the gas started to panic until 'Zakamee ordered them to stop and drag the fallen troops to the medical tent. The gas itself dissipated quickly, but not after reducing 'Zakamee's forces by half their number. As the Grunts worked at removing the bodies and incinerating them to prevent Flood infection, 'Zakamee ran over to the Wraith. The tank itself had been unharmed but the warrior inside had apparently wondered what was going on and so cracked the hatch. His dead body still hung over one side of the tank. Shoving the body of former Major Sama 'Cratamee aside he entered the cockpit and checked the motion sensors. Red blips covered the area at the tank's rear. Momentarily marveling at the Flood's ingenuity he shouted to his troops to defend themselves and sealed the hatch.
Several long minutes of fighting soon left 'Zakamee with himself, a Ghost, a few Jackels, and two of his fellow Elite's. As he was about to order their final charge, the ground shook and didn't stop shaking. A Jackel yelled something about the sky falling, but his transmission was soon lost. The rumbling continued unabated and 'Zakamee looked out the viewport to a scene you might have seen in Hell. The ground itself was upheaving and in some places breaking loose and floating, no, falling upwards. The Flood were gone, as were the last of his comrades that he had so faithfully fought with. A chunk of debris hit the Wraith and caused it to loose all connection to the ground. As he floated upwards out of what remained of Halo's atmosphere he saw a huge piece of the ring world hit the opposite side, and the whole construct broke apart.
* * * * * *
'Zakamee broke out of his reverie and noticed something bleeping on his COM channel. Maybe he wasn't dead yet! 'Zakamee quickly pressed the acknowledge button on the control pad.
"This is Ship Master Huga 'Rolamee of the flagship Ascendant Justice. Any Covenant survivors respond. Several ships are here to rescue you. Acknowledge." the thick gravelly voice reminded 'Zakamee of his old friend, now long gone to Flood infection. 'Zakamee had had to shoot his former comrade himself.
"Yes I hear you Ship Master. This is Special Operations Elite Balask 'Zakamee sir. I am stranded in this tank and require immediate assistance." Said 'Zakamee eagerly.
"Someone's actually on that hunk of junk?" the Ship Master's tone proclaimed much surprise. "I have ordered my second to come about on your position. We should arrive in about three units. May the Gods be with you soldier."
'Zakamee cut communications after the Ship Master did, his hand shook in the joy that he was feeling, but also the shame. In such an honorable society that he lived in he might be considered cowardly, since 'Zakamee lived through a battle where all others had perished, and such a label was worse than death to any other Elite. Any normal Elite would have died an honorable death with the rest of his brothers, but that was just not 'Zakamee's way. He was a pragmatic realist in an army mostly made of fanatical zealots, at least with the Elite's this was true.
'Zakamee forced himself to stop thinking along those lines and instead concentrated on his imminent rescue. He looked out the viewport again and saw the Ascendant Justice, its bright purple hull gleaming in the light of the gas giant's, Threshold's, sun. Its many plasma turrets tracked constantly, the Elite in charge of the weapons anxious to find a target. The flagship got even bigger as it approached his wrecked tank. As the ship closed to within a few hundred units of his drifting tank 'Zakamee noticed his vision narrowing. He looked frantically around the cockpit for some sign of a leak and found where a Human projectile weapon wielded in non- Human hands had made an infinitesimal crack in the armor. He hastened to close the hole but he could feel himself grow weaker. He attempted to block the air's way out with his hand and it seemed to work for a few moments. As his vision grew to a narrow point he thought about how close he had been to surviving the Flood.