Stage 19: Betrayal
Sacred Hall
Elite Inner Sanctum
03:56 October 26, 2552
Dorenth
"Here's everything you asked for Doctor." Eric stated as he walked closer to Catherine's desk. Her coffee was still steaming hot as she slowly made the first incision into the infection form. It was clearly dead, but she still examined the fragile creature from behind the safety of a containment shield. The small laser scalpel powered down and Catherine raised her eyes from the table.
"Just leave it there, Sergeant. Did you also bring Kelly's armor?"
"It's on the next Phantom coming up. I'm also assigning one of my Chief Warrants to work with you and the Spartan. She's an engineer and worked on the MJOLNIR Mark V and VI project. She'll come in handy and might be able to do some work on the armor."
"My Spartans are extremely cautious about whom they let work on their armor, Kelly's no exception. But considering that her suit is well beyond field repair, I'll let her examine it. Does she have ONI clearance?"
"She did, but it was revoked. But trust me, you have nothing to worry about. Speaking of which, how is the Spartan?"
"Still unconscious, but she survived. Her body is responding remarkably and she should be on her feet in a matter of hours. As my calculations predicted, the high amount of radiations within her body caused an abnormal behavior within her nervous system and brain waves. The infection spores could not bond with her, but it did leave her with abnormal healing abilities and a stronger immune system. Kelly is what I had always envisioned my Spartans becoming; perfect." Catherine smiled softly at that statement, but as she looked back to the table she realized that there was still much that needed to be done. "I have a lot of work to do if I'm going to make this applicable, so if you'll excuse me Sergeant I must get back to work."
"I understand ma'am, but…" Eric pressed a small button near the door to the room, locking it. He then approached Catherine's table and spoke softly. "There is still a lot I need to talk to you about."
"Can it wait?"
"No ma'am."
"Alright…" Catherine stepped closer and gazed into the black man's eyes. "Shoot."
"My mission was to lead three platoons into the heart of the covenant, destroy one of the Covenant home worlds, and if we survived all of that, we were to bring some form of forerunner weapon back to Earth to use against the Flood, Covenant or whatever else might be out there. Finding you and the Spartan was a bonus."
"Unless you plan to continue this mission, I would assume that the plan changed with the alliance." Catherine stated as she slipped her hands into her lab coat pockets.
"Yes ma'am. But even with all of this happening I plan to execute phase three."
"Which is?"
"This Seed installation, oddly enough, was one of the many pieces of information Cortana retrieved from the first Halo."
Catherine's eye twitched at hearing Cortana's name.
Eric continued, "This was the weapon they wanted us to bring back. It's a ship, and if it can still fly we're taking it."
"You can't be serious." Catherine frowned.
"The AI that was assigned to this mission, Siren, has been informed of everything that Cortana uploaded into the ONI mainframe, when she and John 117 returned to Earth. The AI is now onboard the Rogue Fantasy and has been sending me random information ever since the flood stopped attacking top side. The forerunners built this thing, and ONI wants it."
"Sergeant Raynord!" Catherine fumed as she planted her hands on her hips. "I understand that you're a Black Ops, and I also understand that you are under Ackerson's research program. This ship is not a weapon. It is the Seed of life. The Ark activates this installation after the Halo's have fired. There is not a weapon based used for this instillation."
"I understand, ma'am. After the alliance was formed I was ready to cancel all plans, I even got rid of my NOVA… temporarily. But with the flood here, the Seed is no longer safe. Plus the elites have other problems to worry about with their rebel kids running around."
Catherine ignored the last statement and focused on the decision to take the Seed Installation, "Who gave this order? And don't say Ackerson."
"Major Elizabeth Rawlings."
Catherine blankly stared at Eric, contemplating what the Major would want with the Seed. The ONI Sectoin III head of Forerunner Research was playing a chess game, a tough one. Having the Seed installation would not give humanity a tactical advantage in the war.
"Did she say why?"
"No ma'am. Her orders were clear, and considering that she wanted to hang me for treason, I couldn't really question her orders. I have to go topside and finish prepping everyone for evac. We're taking this ship, if it flies. My Black Ops will be down in a few hours to see what needs to be done. The elites won't like it but there is nothing we can do for their world. Simyaldee informed me that nearly all of the elite cities on the planet are being overrun by the flood. We were lucky, but luck won't last long."
Catherine cut in, "If Cortana's data contained information about the Seed, than the Major should know it's not a weapon. She should also know that the Flood are more of a threat then they first thought. Damn it. I can't think about this now." Something in Catherine's gut was telling her that she should avoid giving ONI the Seed installation, but leaving it on a world that was slowly being devastated by the flood was also not a good idea.
"Ma'am?" Eric questioned as he overheard Catherine's rambling.
"Nothing, I was thinking out loud. For the benefit of preventing the flood from taking this ship, I'll get Kelly to see what she can find when she wakes up. But as far as letting ONI have it, you'll have to convince me a little more."
- - - - - - - -
Unknown
Lower levels of Sacred Hall/Seed Installation
05:19 October 26, 2552
Dorenth
The lights of the hallway flickered on as Kelly turned the corner. She leveled her BR55 and made sure that the room was indeed secure. She stepped around the corner, in her refit Mark V armor and scoped the area. Behind her walked Rose and three of the honored Elite warriors. One of these warriors was Belmaeda, the newest member of the high council, and one of the oldest members of the Mirratord.
Kelly felt the changes in her suit. Her footsteps seemed lighter and more under control, because of the changes made to her shields and Gel Layer. The gun in her hand felt firm in her grip, and the HUD was much easier to use; even the system response time to her thoughts was faster.
Through her external microphone, "I can't believe how much better things seem to be. You did a good job."
Rose smiled joyfully, "Thanks, but it's still a long ways away from the improvements made in the Mark VI."
"I don't see how, but I'll have to believe you." Kelly stepped forward and a door slowly opened. The room's lights automatically powered on and revealed its interior.
"What is this place?" Belmaeda whispered. "We've been walking for nearly a forty units, but the hallways continue to expand further."
"Vornaldea said that the Prophets ordered the lower sections of the Sacred Halls closed." Rose returned.
"In fact, was it not the prophets that told us that this area was Sacred?" One of the other honored elites questioned.
"Yes. Perhaps continuing to call it Sacred is not the wisest of things." Belmaeda added as he gazed up into another large room. Several ramps, terminals, and doorways outlined this room; far too many doors to explore in such a short amount of time.
"I can't believe you elites let the prophets come to your world and take over. Did you even try to put up a fight?" Kelly harshly questioned. All of the elites understood her hostile tone.
"The history of the Sangheili is none of your concern, Demon." Belmaeda sharply replied.
Kelly spun on her left heel and brought her battle rifle level to Belmaeda's head. The other two elites activated their standard energy swords and growled harshly. Belmaeda held his ground.
"What did you call me?" Kelly growled.
"I called you a Demon, a destroyer of sacred relics."
A tiny hand extended upward towards Kelly's rifle, slowly, so that neither of them would be startled. Rose cautiously pulled Kelly's battle rifle down and with another hand she softly pushed Belmaeda back.
"Despite our differences, we have bigger problems; the flood. If you two want to fight, then fight later. Elder Belmaeda, the other elites need you to get this ship working again. If the flood get in here, there's no telling what will happen."
"You are right, human. But you need to address the harshness of this Demon's words." Again Kelly fumed within her armor. She turned and began to walk deeper into the room. "If our alliance is to last, their hostility will need to be curbed."
Kelly cut into the discussion as she neared a ramp, "You're with me, Rose. Elites, check the doors to the left. Keep an open channel and alert us if you find anything."
"Yes sir." Rose stated as she ran to catch up with Kelly.
One of the honored elites whispered to Belmaeda, "Can we truly trust this demon?"
"I can not tell just yet. The human with the demon is young and naïve, but she is not a threat. But no matter, let us search. The flood will not wait for us to settle our differences."
- - - - - - -
Battle roars echoed throughout the valley beyond the city of the Inner Sanctum. Hundreds of civilians turned their eyes to the edge of the caves and could see hundreds of warriors and vehicles racing toward them. Had the flood broken through? Or was something else occurring.
"Clear the streets!" An elder roared as he lowered his binoculars.
"What is it?" A female questioned. In her arms she carried her newly born infant.
"Be gone from here! GO!" The elder roared but his words came too short. A nearby explosion rocked through the city, sending hundreds of civilian elites scurrying in all directions. The mortar blast leveled everything within fifty yards and knocked the elder off his feet. He stood as more plasma mortars exploded in the distance. His shields recharged and he looked to the charred remains of the female at his side. His eyes glanced down as he fell to his knees. She was laying face down on the street, her body smoldered and the flesh on her back was singed beyond recognition. He clasped his hand upon her head and then prayed that the child was alive, shielded by its mothers body. His eyes filled with tears as he lifted the body, no movement, no life, no way to tell what she was holding. He curled the charred remains of the female and child in his arms and wept over them.
"Dradowee… my god." Another elder stated as he approached, seeing the blackened body he held in his arms. He cast his eyes beyond the edge of the city, the watchmen were coming closer, and no plans for a defense had yet to be formulated. "We can't sit here. They have the high ground and their attack is swift. We must…"
"No!" Dradowee roared. His voice filled with pain and anger. "Contact Vornaldea and tell him to order in the Mirratord. Let the watchmen suffer for this. Let them all suffer!"
"The Mirratord? Is that necessary? They are merely watchmen and they had the element of surprise, but they do not know combat. We can easily defeat them."
Dradowee lowered the body of the female and the infant and stood to his feet. He then reached out to the elder that stood beside him and gripped the top of his chest armor; snarling.
"Look at my mate! Look at the body of my offspring! Tell me they do not deserve justice. Their souls cry to me for revenge! Order in the Mirratord, damn you!" Dradowee turned and powered on his energy blade, and raced toward the oncoming elite watchmen. His roars carried over the mortar explosions in the distance as he sprinted toward the young warriors that had killed his family.
- - - - - - - -
"I understand." Vornaldea replied into the communications uplink. "We have little time to organize an affective countermeasure. It would appear that the Mirratord will be our swiftest option. Simyaldee and the others are on their way to your lines. Send up a Phantom and active com channels for direct communications."
The communication ended and Vornaldea lifted his hand to the wound upon his neck. Why had he not seen this coming? How could the watchmen rally such a large number of troops in such a short amount of time? He looked up and watched as Simyladee and ten Mirratord warriors began to board a nearby Phantom, to take them closer to the valley on the far side of the Inner Sanctum.
Behind Simyaldee he saw the young Mirratord Gridolee, "Wait! Stay here with me. There is much I need to discuss with you." Gridolee turned and hesitated, but Simyaldee gave him a sharp nod. Gridolee understood, Vornaldea was the head of the high council, and his words were the law to the Mirratord. Simyaldee and the others were quickly lifted into the Phantom and sped off to the far side of the city. Gridolee watched as they departed and then walked back to Vornaldea's side.
"I know that combat has called to you, young one. But I must know why the young are doing this."
"I told the Second everything I know, elder."
"Yes, he told me in his last report, but what I fail to see is why. Why would the young believe the prophets more then the high council? Your father served the high council and the Mirratord well, but because of him you are now the youngest warrior ever to enter the ways of the Mirratord. You would have been a watchman now, had not your bloodline been so pure. Most of those young are your friends and classmates, yet you would go to fight them. Tell me Lieutenant Gridolee, what more did the prophets promise our young? What has brought them to this betrayal?"
Gridolee could only hold his head low, the days of the academy flashing before his eyes. So many sermons, combat teachings, mysterious of the great journey, and the prophecies. His academy days were spent yearning for battle, dreaming of tearing away the skull of humans and posting thm upon his walls. The memories of what combat was. The memory of prophets telling him what was wrong and what was right; all lies…
- - - - - - - -
The Prophet of Signs entered a small amphitheater, floating across the stage in his small chair. Long ago he lost the use of his legs, but his teachings were the most honored of all the academy prophets, and thus he had earned the right to have a floating throne. Considered a lesser prophet, Signs was head of the academy on Dorenth and instructed the young watchmen on how to understand the Gods. For more then five years he headed the academy and changed everything the watchmen learned. Signs' teachings were new to the elite instructors of combat and conditioning within the academy, but the high Prophet of Truth had told them all to obey his orders and take heed to his words.
Like every sermon that Signs spoke, he ordered the instructors to leave the amphitheater so that he may speak directly to the youth. For three years these young warriors had been listening to Sign's sermons and teachings on what is right and wrong, and the will of the Gods.
Lifting his frail hands to silence the young, "Another week has passed young watchmen. You have learned to battle with your kin. You have learned to hate those that are heretics and defilers of the Sacred Rings. Oh young watchmen, there are troubling signs in your future. The elite High Council has kept secrets from us, many dark and mysterious secrets that the Gods are not pleased with. Have we not given you power? Have we not given you possessions and an easier life?"
Silence filled the room, much to Signs' liking, "You are the future of the elite, the future leaders of this once great race. But now, the Gods are not happy. Was it not the elites that stopped the Grunt rebellion? But now, another rebellion looms in the future. The Gods summoned a mighty Arbiter to smite the first rebellion, but this time an Arbiter will not be enough."
"Oh young watchmen, I have told you of many lesser species, none so low as the grunt. The Gods give them no strength, and only in great numbers can they fight. They breed like insects and animals, dozens born at a time. How can these lowly creatures ever fight with the honor of an elite? But I say to you young watchmen, I have seen it. The Gods have shown me yet another sign, and it is a sign of your downfall. You watchmen who have trained to prepare for battle, you who have sweat and studied so that you to can fight against the vile humans. I say to you that you will not see battle, you will not. You will be left here as a grunt leader with the honor of an elite rises to take your place in battle."
A wave of mumbles filled the amphitheater as the young warriors gasped in shock at Signs' words. So young they were, so impressionable, and so stupid. Signs smirked within himself at the outcries, pleased that they were all believing his words.
"This grunt will lead an army of grunts, taking the glory of the elites. He will take the favor of the Gods, and the Gods will not welcome any of the elites on the Great Journey."
Roars erupted from the young watchmen sitting in the amphitheater. Disgust and hatred was being spat from their lips.
"But be ye not dismayed, for there is hope. This can not be all blamed upon the grunts, for they are like any creature and hope for a better life. But you must consider the ways of the elite high council. As I told you, they have kept many secrets from us. But we wish not to pry in elite affairs unless it involves the great journey. The high council knows that a possible new threat to the will of the Gods has been born, but they have yet to act upon it. I fear that the high council is now blind to the will of the Gods. And this blindness may bring down the honor of the elites."
"I say to you that I pray that these events do not happen. That I am mistaken in my vision of the future and that the honor of the elites will last to the day of the Great Journey. But what must be done if these visions do arise? How can you, protect the honor of the elites? It is simple. The grunt must not receive any honor from the elites. But the council may try to protect this lowly creature. If that is true, then your elders will doom you all in their own blindness. I have taught many of you, instructed several of you personally, and I would hate to see the Gods cast down the elites. If the elite high council can not be stopped then there is little I can do, but to lift up a Sermon for you watchman that turn away from the high council's heresy. If this day comes, turn away from the elite high council. I pray you will all heed my words and take them into your hearts. I shall speak to you all again next week."
Many discussions erupted throughout the hundreds of gathered watchmen. All of them confused and tormented by Signs' words. He floated off the stage and smiled to himself as he neared the ramp leading off of the stage, and a larger smile crossed his face as the acdemies number one pupil approached him. The young warrior knelt to one knee, and hung his head low in honor of the prophet.
"Rise young Gridolee. I felt that you would come and see me before you left." Signs sighed.
Gridolee stood to his feet and fastened his robe, "Honorable Prophet, your sermon today…"
"Honorable, am I? Gridolee, you flatter me, but I am not worthy of such praise. I have told you countless times to simply call me Signs."
The two began to walk out of the Amphitheater's rear door and continued to talk, "Forgive me Signs, but I feel that you are so much more to me. But alas, is it true, today sermons?"
"I am not sure, Gridolee." Signs replied as he hung his head low. "The Gods have shown me many things, and very rarely are they incorrect. But enough, you have nothing to fear of this. Surely you will do what is right when the time comes. My sermon will lift you, and you will be my personal protector during the Great Journey." With a curt smile Sign patted Gridolee on the shoulder.
"Without hesitation, Signs. I will do what I must to ensure our place within the Great Journey."
"Indeed. So the high council has decided to pull you from the academy?"
"Yes, they say that I am already worthy of battle. I will be assigned to the Holy Prophet of Regret's battle group, once my training is complete."
"Training?" Signs smirked at the word.
"Yes, they would not tell me what form of training, but I will be off to Jogrennilee at nightfall."
"Then may the Gods protect you in your battles. You are the largest and strongest elite I have ever encountered, and surely, many humans will die by your hands." Signs knew that he had stocked Gridolee's ego with that statement. He could see the glow of pride and a gloating smirk upon his face. "You are the academies number one pupil. You will bring great success to Regret's fleet."
Blushingly, the young Gridolee responded, "Your words humble me, Signs."
"Might I ask you for a favor, Gridolee? Something that will help ensure the elites' place within the Great Journey."
"I would do anything for my brothers."
Signs reached into his throne, pulled up a small silver crystal and handed it to Gridolee, "Within this data crystal is a private channel to me. It can record anything you say, and when you are ready you can simply insert it into a communications uplink. It will automatically encrypt it and send your transmissions directly to me. If we knew what the elite high council was keeping from us, perhaps we could circumvent it, and prevent the elites from falling."
Gridolee examined the crystal and then looked back to Signs, "Are you asking me to spy on the high council?"
"I simply ask that you think of what is right. You have the crystal and the decision to use it is up to you."
A few moments later, Signs entered his private quarters within the academy and released a heavy sigh. He had set things in motion, but the chance of the plan succeeding was thin. His terminal buzzed and he glanced upward at his view screen.
"Greetings signs, I take it that this line is private?" The aged elite stated before him.
"Yes Mercy, as always."
"Good." The Prophet of Mercy smiled. "The DNA of the grunt king has been transferred to a fertile female. By the time I arrive at High Charity he will be born."
"This is a risky plan, even for Truth. How can he be sure that this grunt will indeed fallow in his father's footsteps?"
"This grunt is a direct lineage of the Forerunners' DNA. He will grow to be a natural leader and his skill will be unlike anything ordinary elites have ever seen. They will respect him on the battlefield, just as his father nearly received honor so many years ago, the same thing will happen. He will be offered to take the elite trials."
"And because of my sermon and teachings, the watchmen will not sit idly by and do nothing. Another rebellion will begin."
Mercy agreed, "Yes and the Elites will be divided. They will never have time to fully understand our goals, and by the time they discover that they have been tricked, the firing of he Halos will erase them from existence."
- - - - - - - -
Vornaldea looked down to Gridolee, as the young warrior wept in shame at his feet. Gridolee had betrayed the elders and the High Council; he was a traitor that was fooled in the ignorance of his youth.
Vornaldea placed a hand upon Gridolee's head, "How much did you tell Signs?"
Without looking up and through heavy sobs, "I told him everything about the Mirratord. How long we have existed, the Heretics… everything. My last transmission was when we arrived within Sangheili space two days ago."
"Signs left Dorenth more then two weeks ago. Did you speak to him at all after that?"
"Yes, he always replied with praises for me, until we arrived at Earth. I believe that was his last transmission to me, but I continued to send him information."
"When you arrived on Earth?"
"Yes, after Regret's ship left, they were defenseless. We attacked several hours later..."
Vornaldea cut across Gridolee, "That day. That was the day the brutes began their attack."
- - - - - - - -
Elite Flag Ship; Knight and Piercing Arrow
05:32 October 26, 2552
Dorenth/ High Orbit
Sleeping was not an option for Ship Master Timnaldee. He had just spent the last few hours debating with the human captain on the matters of the Arbiter. Apparently, not only had the remaining forces of the Covenant arrived on Earth, but flood controlled ships were also arriving there. How had the flood spread so wildly? How could so many Covenant controlled ships be under the control of the flood? So many, in fact, that they could send ships to Dorenth and Earth. Is it possible that High Charity had not been destroyed? Or even worse, the Covenant armada was not obliterated in its destruction.
Pulling Timnaldee from his deep thoughts, the ships communicator shouted, "Sir, incoming transmission from Bladra, they are requesting support. The flood have overwhelmed their positions and are threatening to break into the tram tunnel to the Inner Sanctum."
"Cursed parasite." Timnaldee barked beneath his breath. "Are there any ground troops within the area that can arrive in time?"
"No sir, I've tried contacting them, but no reply. I fear they've been overrun."
"We have no choice then. Contact High Elder Vornaldea and tell him that we are going to open fire on Bladra from orbit and permanently seal that tram tunnel."
"Sir, we have troops still in the city…"
"I understand. Tell them to retreat deeper into the tunnel and verify that we have sealed it. Also tell Vornaldea to send reinforcements into the tram tunnel toward Bladra. Helm, organize our wing ships and put us directly over Bladra, and tell all ships to prepare plasma cannons." A cold feeling crept into Timnaldee's stomach. No other elite captain had ever fired upon Dorenth, and it pained him to be the first, but if the city was destroyed by plasma fire it would take the flood decades to dig through. The plasma cannons were perfect for this, because they melted and forged everything on the ground. The plasma cannons would melt the rocks, stone, and dirt into a polished glassy layer of sediment several meters thick. The humans called it 'Glassing a world' and it was a fiting title. Once they began to fire, nothing would survive.
- - - - - - - -
"This has not been a good day." Vornaldea sighed into the communications uplink. "I can not spare any troops toward the Bladra tram tunnel, at least not now. The watchmen have turned against us and are attacking from that section of tunnels. We are cut off from supplying support until we have dealt with our young. Once we have dealt with them, we will send troops."
Ship master Timnaldee suddenly erupted through the com line, "Say again, elder. The watchmen. What has become of our young?"
"It saddens me to say it myself, but the prophets' lies and treachery have spread deeper then we could have ever known. They turned our young against us."
"I understand… I will do what I can. Please… elder, if there is a peaceful way to stop the watchmen…"
"I will do what I must, Captain." Vornaldea replied with a heavy tone. He knew what Timnaldee wanted, his child was a watchman, but by now the Mirratord was already attacking the young. The Mirratord did not discern friend from foe, they simply followed orders, and by now there would be no way of stopping them.
"Very well, I will report when the bombardment is complete." The communication ended and Vornaldea watched as Gridolee lowered his head again.
"He was worried about his young?" Gridolee asked.
"Yes." Vornaldea stood from his seat and walked toward a nearby table. Upon the table was a computer terminal detailing a holographic map of the Inner Sanctum. He had to prepare for the next possible step. He had to begin preparing for the possibility of the flood entering the Inner Sanctum.
- - - - - - - -
Deep blue blood stained the streets near the edge of the city. Smoldering wraith tanks outlined the distant hills of the valley. Two wounded Dabdoughs grazed on the corpses of the dead, while their tattered flags dragged behind them. Two hundred or more elite bodies littered the edge of the city, most gripping energy swords that were too heavy for them to lift. Children, lost because of the lies of a dark and sinister race. Again the prophets had mortally wounded the elites, but this time the pain was in their hearts.
Twenty Mirratord warriors, staggering throughout the battlefield, began sluggishly walking back toward the city. The blood of the young stained their armor and tears flowed down there faces. This was a battle that would never be recorded, never shared with the future youth, but it would also never be forgotten. The watchmen died so easily at the hands of the twenty Mirratord warriors, and the only elite to die was elder Dradowee. He had fought and killed four watchmen before he was overwhelmed. The elder was skilled but did not possess the skill of a Mirratord warrior.
Simyaldee walked the field and let the smell of blood fill his nostrils. He found no honor in killing the young, but this generation of watchmen was no longer followers of the elite way of life. They were pawns of the prophets, and in his eyes they were the enemy. Simyaldee was battle hardened, seen death on many worlds, and lost many comrades, but this day would still be the darkest day of his life. They were his enemies, and as second in command of the Mirratord he could not hesitate. The warriors under his command needed to take this attack seriously, and he had to lead them as if nothing mattered.
Simyaldee froze as he neared the body of a beheaded youth. He remembered the young ones whimper as he struggled to lift the plasma rifle. The young watchman was in his first year of the academy, and that meant that he was no older then eleven.
Simyaldees recalled the encounter. His twin blades were swinging with pinpoint accuracy as he sliced through a wave of senior watchmen. They were moderate warriors and had descent aim with their plasma rifles, but Simyaldee's Mirratord shields protected him easily; he didn't bother trying to dodge the shots. With one swing of his left hand he had cut down two of them, sending their corpses tumbling to the ground. He then jumped behind the other three and tripped them with his foot. As they fell he struck each one with his blades. The better of the three young warriors was able to dodge his first swing, and lunged at him. The young warrior died in Simyaldee's arms as he stabbed the young watchman in mid air. It was then that he heard the footsteps of the young first year academy watchman coming up behind him. Simyaldee turned, blade ready and glared the young elite in the eyes. The first year watchmen could barely hold the plasma rifle in both hands, and as he raised the rifle he said three words;
"Prophets, protect me."
Simyaldee reacted instantly, severing the boys head from his torso. A slight whimper left his tiny mandibles just as the blade struck his neck, and Simyaldee continued on, fighting the others without remorse.
The body still lay there, clasping the plasma rifle in his hands. Simyaldee looked for the young ones head, and then removed his helmet. A shudder filled his spine as he gazed upon the young elites face. He knew this child.
A warrior, trained to kill and obey orders. Simyaldee was the Second, the second in command and the second best warrior of the Mirratord. He was the right hand of the high council and he personally had killed more then fifty of the young watchmen; the future warriors of the elites. This child that he had slain was like a son to him, it was his best friend's offspring and only child. Never to show emotion during battle, Simyaldee took the helmet and began to walk away from the bodies that littered the ground. As he looked up, toward the city, he could see that the females were coming out to see the dismay. Shrieks of horror filled their cries as some ran out to find their young. How many of them would be able to find their offspring amongst the dead? They were all running out to find their child, lying lifeless in a pool of his own blood, and then to know that this child was coming to kill the elders.
Sobs and moans filled the air as Simyaldee continued to walk back to the city, and before long all twenty of his Mirratord warriors had begun to follow him. Each of them held something in their hands, something they didn't want the others to see. They each carried something that would remind them that the prophets and brutes would pay for this day. They held in their hands pieces of armor, helmets, and even weapons from the battle. But Simyaldee didn't care, because this wasn't a normal battle and the normal rules of looting the dead didn't apply. He thought again and realized the he couldn't really say it was looting. But no matter, he had his own demon to deal with in the shape of a tiny blue helmet. How would he tell his life long friend of these events? How would he tell Captain Timnaldee that he had killed his son?
- - - - - - - -
Eric and Melanie looked closer at the body, puzzled. There was no denying that it was still moving, but how? Neither of them wanted to get closer to find out, but somehow, the body of Domadree was still twitching even though his head was split and a massive wound lined his chest.
"Is he alive?" Melanie asked, gazing down at the body. The jostling footsteps of a grunt caught Eric and Melanie's attention. Palab waddled close, his nose sniffing the air.
"He not alive, is he?" Palab questioned, but his question went unanswered. "Me see body earlier, but leave it for clean up team. It not move then."
"We know about as much as you do, sergeant." Melanie stated. More footsteps approached from the direction of the Tram Station doors.
"19, we contacted all squad leaders and passed on the word. The Rogue Fantasy will deploy all pelicans ASAP. We can clear out the marines within fifteen minutes. As orders, ODST will stay behind to assist us." Justin 14 stated to the group. Beside him stood the other Black Ops and each had their weapons armored and ready.
Palab curiously looked at the group, "What happening?"
"We're pulling out, Palab." Eric stated as he turned away from Domadree's body. "The flood have completely overrun this world, save for this area. I'm not going to let my men die for the elites. Once my marines have been lifted from the planet, me and the Black Ops are going to take the seed installation away from this world. You and your grunts are more then welcome to join us."
Palab thought about it for a split second, "What need of me?"
"For now, maintain the perimeter and keep the flood off our asses. If they break in while were loading up, we're screwed."
Sammy 13 sighed softly, "FUBAR." Each of the Black Ops agreed.
"What mean FUBAR?" Palab annoyingly questioned. He was eager to know what the words meant.
"Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition." Melanie answered. "Basically it means we're screwed." Palab thought on the words and was happy to finally know what it meant, but he also knew that these words weren't a good thing.
"Once the marines have been evacuated, pull your grunts into the tram tunnel." Eric added.
"Elites not allow grunts into Inner Sanctum. They'd rather kill grunts first."
"Don't worry about the elites, just get into the tram station. They'll let you in, or we'll fight our way in."
Melanie 05 tightened her chest armor, and pulled down her helmet's face plate. Her persona changed and her Black Ops armor gave her the look of a darkly clad ODST. With the exception that there was no grey upon the Black Ops armor, the armor looked nearly identical to ODST armor. Unlike the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, the Black Ops were augmented soldiers and the modified ODST armor felt as light as standard military fatigues, even though the combined weight of the armor was well over forty pounds.
Melanie opened a channel to Eric's private frequency, "You sure about this? It's going to be hard enough taking that ship from the Elite Mirratord. How do you plan to do this with a thousand grunts running behind us?"
Eric flipped down his helmet visor and replied, "Simple. We're going to do this with a thousand grunts running behind us. Not even the Mirratord are crazy enough to fight those numbers." Eric popped his visor up and looked at Palab. "We may have to fight the elites, sergeant. Some of your grunts may not make it."
"To be free, grunts fight." Palab voiced. "Me go prepare pack leaders, tell them what happen soon. Me trust humans, but me hope that some elites understand. Elite world doomed." Palab turned and began to run toward the front lines and addressed his grunts about the plan. The grunts now stood alone, without the watchful eyes of elites. Only the human Black Ops and the grunts stood beyond the Tram Station doors. This was the affect of Gridolee being defeated by Palab. Gridolee was ordered to take all of his elites inside the tram station, leaving only the grunts to keep a watchful eye out for flood activity.
"What about Domadree?" Melanie questioned. Her static filled burst cutting into the Black Ops' squad ears. "I can only imagine the hell he's going through right now."
"I'll end it." Eric stated to the squad. "05, take the squad back into the Tram Station and be ready to send out the marines when those pelicans arrive." The Black Ops quickly began to run toward the tram station. Eric noticed that the mixed black and grey armor of the ODST waited for them at the tram station's doors. He then turned his attention back to Domadree.
"Sorry about this, Domadree, but if you are alive, I'm sure you'd rather be dead." Eric reached into his pant pocket and pulled out one of the hilts to his Mirratord energy sword. The controlled energy exploded from the hilt and Eric stabbed downward into Domadree's chest, where his heart would be. The sword ripped through the slowly decaying skin and the chest burst open with a green haze. The spores exploded into the air as tentacles swung in all directions. Eric was able to jump back, swinging the sword in such a fashion that he was able to cut off one of the tentacles. "Shit!" Eric cursed as he rolled backwards, avoiding the tentacle that slammed near his feet. Another tentacle swung across his head, and Eric had to retreat again. If this was a flood form, it was unlike anything documented by the Spartans. Eric held his ground after retreating more then twenty feet from Domadree's body, or what was left of it. Five massive tentacles, impossible in size, stretched from his body and began to drag Domadree away from the tram station, toward the grunt controlled perimeter.
A deep echoing voice emerged from the body, "Dead? No Sergeant, I live and I shall not die. Freed of the parasite that controlled me, I lay and grow, but now you threaten my rest. I understand it all now, I see beyond the limits of my flesh. My life can not be ended now, I must live, I must thrive and grow. A brain is near, much knowledge of those who came before. It knows of Mercy and Truth, of the Rings and of the Ark. Much knowledge it contains. I am not complete, I am not whole, I need more bodies to grow."
The spores that flowed from Domadree's body made Eric gag, and he pulled down his helmet visor and turned on his air regulator, "Domadree?"
"Domadree? Yes that was my name. I was an elite warrior, a Mirratord." The tentacles neared the front line, but Eric followed closely. The grunts all panicked as they looked at the small ball of tentacles and some began to fire at it.
One of the grunts cried out, "Very bad thing!"
"Hold your fire, and clear a path!" Eric shouted to the grunts. Nervously they all obeyed. Eric wanted to kill it, but he wanted to hear what else it had to say, cautiously he pulled a plasma grenade from his belt and held it in his left hand behind his back, hoping that the creature didn't have eyes.
"My bloodline was that of a forerunner, a descendant of the very creatures that have made me what I am now. The knowledge of the spores, and the joining of my body has awakened me, and no longer am I simply a fragile body of flesh and faith and bone. I am more. The brain is near, I can taste its knowledge. And when I have taken that knowledge I will grow, I will grow stronger, and I will take the Seed." The pile of tentacles began to pull itself through the rows of shields. "Leave this world. Seek out those that would activate the Rings. Leave the seed for me, sergeant. There is still time to save yourself."
"Give you the Seed? Not a chance in hell." Eric primed the plasma grenade and threw it straight at the base of the tentacles. A roar bellowed from within it as the grenade came closer and a tentacle blocked its course. The plasma grenade stuck to the tentacle and it extended away from the explosion. The grenade detonated and sent green organic mass scattering throughout the area, as the voice shrieked in pain. Once the dust settled Eric could no longer see the mass of tentacles through the twilight of the early morning. His ears then caught the sound of incoming pelicans as the line of birds soared into the area.
As if on cue, Eric could hear dozens of footsteps behind him, marines running to board the ships. Eric powered down the energy sword and hefted his battle riffle. He looked through the scope, peering into the area that the creature was heading toward, but there was no sign of it.
"First bird loaded Sergeant, second bird coming in." Juggernaut stated over the com channel.
"Roger that, Juggernaut. Keep me posted when all pick ups are complete." Eric then changed frequency. "05 and 02 head to the east and west perimeter and pull in the grunts, I'll hold the north line until all the birds are away."
A familiar static burst cut into Eric's com channel as a Captain Monroe stated, "Sergeant. Flood activity has intensified across the world. The elite flag ship is now glassing a city forty kilometers north of your position."
Another familiar female voice crossed the channel, "Also, sergeant, be advised that if the flood have breached that city there is a strong chance that they will break into the Inner Sanctum. Those Tram tunnels are all interconnected and that city is similar to Jogrennilee in that it has a direct connection to the Inner Sanctum. It connects near the caves where you took the trials." Siren's knowledgeable words made Eric concerned about this mission's success.
"Thanks for the warning, Siren. 19 out." A static burst ended the transmission and Eric continued to pear into the area. The sun was slowly rising but the shadows of the city skyscrapers continued to create massive walls of darkness.
- - - - - - - -
A mass of elite combat forms walked from the shadows carrying the oversized husk of the brain from. The brain form gazed at the Tram Station, but not through its own eyes. A dead elite body provided the brain form with the vision it needed to see the area. Human Pelicans soared over head as more and more sunlight began to fill the region.
"The leader is near. Their he awaits with more knowledge, to complete us. To feed us and show us the seed."
Without much warning the combat forms dropped the massive flood brain form and fled from the area. They all shrieked in terror as they ran. Two combat forms remained and in each hand they held weapons looking for what had scared the others. They then found the creature of tentacles and began firing at it with plasma weapons. A tentacle slammed against the first combat form, smashing it against the ground. The other combat form attempted to run but a tentacle slapped against it, smashing it into a dust of green gore.
"Another of the first. Another of the creators. You have come to take me? You have come to consume me?" The brain form questioned with a nervous whimper, as if it feared what would become of it. "I gave you knowledge, but it was not wise. The blood of an ancient past fills you. You will not control my kind."
A tentacle stabbed into the massive fluid filled brain form and silenced it.
"From the ancient times, I was born. Placed into a shell that could not contain me, or use me. I know my lineage, I know my purpose… they will suffer and those that came before will not return. Our food will not be destroyed again. You have knowledge, I will claim that which you have." The tentacle pulled the oozing husk of flesh toward the base of its tentacles and slowly began to absorb the brain form and knowledge contained within it. A small green flap emerged from the base of the tentacles and it parted into two halves; a mouth. From its mouth it spat more thick green gas into the air and the flood combat forms that were once afraid began to be drawn toward the thick green mist. "My spores sustain you, so long as I feed, I shall sustain you. I must grow, I must have the seed. The sergeant will protect the Seed therefore he must die. I must flee from this world with the Seed, and I must destroy those that would activate the rings. There is still time to feed. Time to stop those that would bring back those of the past, those that created us and then wanted us destroyed."
To be continued…