"Earn your place."
An hour passed since the young pack of grunts descended to the Sacred Ring, and already they were to be shuffled into action. Constant flood attacks near the edge of the base were weakening the perimeter defenses, and the young pack was next in line to fill in.
The base selected by the elite Spec Ops Commander, was near the edge of Halo's Quarantine Zone, and flood attacks were often. The base was a large structure made of stone ruins and numerous underground pathways that lead into the metal lower lairs of Halo. It was a vast sanctuary just beyond the massive dark walls of the flood filled zone. Had the prophets not ordered the Arbiter to deactivate the shielding around the Quarantine Zone, flood attacks would have been nil, but that was only wishful thinking now.
Proving his leadership ability, Etah had been assigned to chief of the vehicle bay and supplies. He was stationed toward the center of the base, near the massive tower that served as the elite's command center. However, Palab and his other brothers were sent off as lambs to the slaughter, and stationed at the lone building closest to the massive wall of the Zone. Numerous attacks had occurred there, and dozens of grunts had perished at the hands of the flood. This was their place, their duty. Any grunt that couldn't carry its own weight was quickly ordered to the front lines; as cannon fodder, despite their age and experience.
The wailing of the flood could be heard throughout the room. It sent a chill down every grunt's spine, but the two spec ops elites brushed aside their shock and dismay. Warriors like them would not be caught dead showing their weakness in such a time. But four feet beneath the heads of those mighty elites stood four cowering grunts.
"This sacred ring will not be our graves." One of the elites roared in protest of the flood outcries.
"Confident, he is." Palab snorted. His muffled words caught the attention of the Elite.
"Battle is among us. The flood is drawing closer. Palab, get your pack into position." Doz Yammaeda, the spec ops elite in charge of defending the area, barked his orders without any sign of fear or nervousness. But Palab knew differently. His pack was the third to be ordered to this position ever since they arrived on the Sacred Ring. And on top of that the brutes were killing his brood brothers on High Charity, he and his pack had just barely escaped to a ship and were then transported to the ring world. Palab stomped the ground with his fists and pushed off the troubled thoughts. Without Etah around, Palab was a pack leader and he had his orders.
"You two bring artillery. Load many grenades in hand. We defend this door." He ordered the other three grunts and they quickly moved into positions. The far side of the crumbling stone building was broken down and a doorway exposed the interior wall of the Quarantine Zone's defense. The door was clearly an entry way into the zone, but it had been sealed many years ago. But now, with the shield down and the flood free to roam, the doorway was a weakness that had to be guarded.
Palab watched as his two pack brothers moved their turrets to guard the doorway, "We only thing between flood and base. We do good job and food nipple for everyone." Palab was third born and had one other older brother, but he was soft spoken and terrified of battle; not worthy of leading the pack in Etah's absences. Thusly, Palab assumed the role of pack leader.
His pack of grunts primed their weapons, charged the two plasma turrets and howled a battle cry as the flood in the hallway wailed again. The two Special Operation elites, clad in black armor, stood behind Palad and his pack and pulled out their plasma swords. The two mighty elites began to wort with anticipation, knowing that they would be fighting in close quarters and only the hissing of their plasma swords would give them the edge in battle.
Base camp was well defended. Each entryway into the ruins was covered with a battalion of grunts and elites. But once Etah, Palab and the other comany of grunts arrived on the ring, information was quickly spread that the Elites were no longer in command. The Brutes were now the favorite of the Prophets.
The Special Operations Commander knew that something wasn't right, and his actions had been justified. His hunch was given full merit when Tartarus, Chieftain of the Brutes, pulled all of his warriors away from the Quarantine Zone and stationed them near Halo's command center. The High Council had feared these actions and they had warned the commander that this could happen. The Prophets were betraying their oath to the Covenant, and an eradication of the elites would be eminent. Now the commander had a new purpose, he had to defend his base from the flood, stop the brutes from taking the Control Room, and wait for orders from the High Council. Added to that, there had been no word from the Arbiter since he ventured into the Library. Surely, he was a victim of the Prophets betrayal, and the commander was the last to see him alive.
Stationed on the southern side of the ruins, the room grew quite as Spec Ops elite Doz Yammaeda and his squad held their position. Anticipating the flood's action was hard but Yammaeda had experience with dealing with the parasites. They had been attacking for the better part of twelve hours and the odor from their rotting corpses filled his nostrils with delight. Yammaeda had stopped counting how many of the combat forms he had cut down since the flood began their assault on the base, but he had great satisfaction in predicting their advance, and surviving to slaughter more.
The Spec Ops Commander was wise to appoint Yammaeda to this locale. He knew that Doz Yammaeda was an excellent strategist when it came to being in tight quarters combat, and had high favor in the experienced elite; so much so that he was going to invite Yammaeda into the secret order of the Mirratord; an honor among honors. Sadly, the trouble with the prophets began and such deeds would have to wait. The Commander had sent in three waves of Grunts to support Yammaeda, and only one Elite warrior had died under Yammaeda's command; a great deed considering the numerous flood attacks. But what thecommander was not aware of was that this latest Grunt support pack would be an advantage unlike any the covenant had seen.
Palab and his pack waited at the door to base camp. The two turret gunners stared closely down the barrel and through the door. Palab, with an uncharged plasma grenade in hand, crawled to the side of his nearby pack brother. They both stood a few feet behind the turret gunners.
"You see enemy?" Palab questioned. Palab didn't hear a response, so he poked the grunt in the side; startling the grunt awake.
"YAAHAA!" The grunt screamed, charging his Plasma pistol and aiming in all directions.
"No time for sleeping. You sleep, we die. Me no die here." Palab yelled at his groggy older brother, at his side.
The older grunt sighed, "Enemy no come. We wait here for hours. Me see no enemy." Palab was about to agree with his pack brother when one of the turret gunners screamed.
"ENEMY! Here… you see, you see?"
The doorway was soon crawling with flood infection forms, and the two turret gunners began to quickly fire into the lot of them. Yammaeda watched closely, knowing what was to come next. He looked to his Elite brother and nodded his head, tightening his grip on the energy sword. The spec ops elite at his side returned the gesture and they both crouched and moved toward the door. Soon the combat forms would come, and they would be ready to face them.
Palab looked to his pack brother and they both tossed plasma grenades into the entrance with expert precision. The grenades made short work of the infection forms and Palab sighed in relief. He was taken by surprise, but thankfully his other pack brothers stayed sharp at the turrets. This was his first encounter with the enemy but his training had paid off. He was a skilled grenade thrower and could fire his plasma pistol with great speed and accuracy.
"More enemies!" The turret gunners shouted, but this time their shouts were subsided by the wails of the flood combat forms. The mutated creatures charged up the ramp and into the door but were quickly met by pounds of plasma fire by the two turret grunts. Palab and his brother tossed two grenades behind the first row of combat forms.
Palab quickly shouted, "Heads up!" The grenades exploded between the flood ranks and sent several of the combat forms across the grunts' heads; landing at Yammaeda's feet. Doz Yammaeda and his Elite brother wasted no time and slashed the charred bodies with their plasma swords, giving the creatures no time to spawn.
Yammaeda looked to Palab with total shock. "Had the grunt planned for that to happen?" He thought to himself. The explosion not only destroyed several combat forms, but it also divided the flood ranks, making them easy pickings for the turret gunners. When the last combat form was seared with plasma fire, Palab and his pack cheered happily. They had faced their first wave and survived.
Doz Yammaeda stepped forward, "Palab, there is no time for celebration. This victory is momentary. Dispose to the flood bodies or we will have more to deal with in the next fray."
"Yes Sir." Palab stated to his commanding officer. He turned to his pack. "Come, we destroy them. You two stay on turret, watch our backs."
"Me no like this." Palab's older brother stated nervously. "You know what they say, where one flood, always more."
"We have orders, do as told, we live longer." Palab replied. The two grunts scurried down the ramp and surveyed the room; switching their plasma pistols for needlers. "Me no seen nothing. Destroy bodies fast!" Palab and his brother scurried from body to body, there hoofs clapping on the stone floor with every step. They emptied their guns into flood bodies and the needler's charged crystals exploded with gruesome results. But unknown to the two grunts, one infection form survived. The infection form pulled its bulbous form from a dismantled human body and scurried across the room toward the two unsuspecting grunts.
"Behind you!" One of the turret gunners screamed, but it was too late. The Infection form stabbed it's tentacle into the eldest brother and the grunt screamed in pain.
"Get it off, get it off, get …." The grunt screamed but was quickly subdued by the tiny creatures attack method. It injected its toxins into the grunt's spine and slowly began to take over his body.
"I no let you!" Palab slapped the bulb on the creature with the hilt of his needler and it exploded in a mist of green decay. His action wasn't fast enough and the infection forms toxins had completely overwhelmed the grunts body. He was slowly swelling as the parasites toxins were transforming him into what would be a nest of flood spores. The nest was a sack of lumpy flesh without thought or consciousness, and brewed spores that would turn the air into a thick mist of infectious spores. Palab had no time to morn the death of his pack brother as more combat forms could be heard running down the path toward his position.
"Palab, fall back!" Yammaeda yelled. "More of the creatures are coming."
Palab pulled all the grenades from his brother's side satchel and began to scamper up the ramp into the room. He turned and tossed a grenade at the slowly contorting body of his fallen comrade, to ensure that the flood would not claim his body and continued up the ramp. The grenade exploded and Palab looked up at Yammaeda.
Yammaeda could only reply, "His great journey has begun. You will avenge him in the next battle." The four grunts had just celebrated a victory, only to have one of their elder brothers killed by a lone flood infection form. Yammaeda had never seen grunts so quiet. Many of them had died in the war, many had died that day, but this pack seemed oddly connected. Palab returned to his brothers' side, and stood between the two plasma turrets. They had nothing to say and were clearly upset at the death of one of their own.
The Elite looked to his fellow warrior and felt some apprehension about notifying command of what had transpired. Grunts were always connected and stuck to their packs, but a display of remorse had not yet been seen by an elite's eyes. It had been believed that grunts had their own way of dealing with their dead and dared to not share it with the rest of the covenant. The Grunts knew their place, they were cannon fodder, used only to reduce an enemy's numbers and pave the way for battle hardened elites, but until now, they never seemed to dwell long on the death of their fallen. But Yammaeda's thoughts would have to wait.
"We fight. Enemies here!" Palab suddenly shouted as combat forms rushed up the hill. This time caring weapons, and using cover fire. "Reposition turrets. Enemies hide. Not need turrets at door. Fall back." Palab barked his orders and the two turret gunners obeyed. Palab supplied cover fire for his pack as they repositioned the guns at an angle out of reach of the flood's fire.
Yammaeda and his elite brother switched to their plasma rifles and supported Palab; standing behind him as they fired into the tunnel. Palab tossed a grenade near the door and also retreated to the fall back position. The grenade exploded and the two elites joined Palab and the two turret gunners.
"We wait here, sir. You get support. We hold off enemies tell you return." Palab spoke. Yammaeda was about to rebuke the grunt for speaking as if to give orders, but the little grunt began to fire his weapon and toss grenades without much concern for his elite commander. A lone bullet struck Yammaeda's shield and he crouched behind a stone pillar.
"Stay and support, brother." Doz Yammaeda stated to the elite at his side. "I will go to the Communications Array and call for back up." His platoon was large but the area they covered was larger, so he had to divide his platoon into smaller squads. He was more concerned with the human threat on the Sacred Ring, but the flood menace was becoming overwhelming. The flood seemed driven and much smarter then the records had stated. The one time General had not recorded how intelligent the flood were.
Palab picked up a nearby plasma pistol and fired into the combat form that had breached the door. He was soon assisted by one of the turret gunners. His pack was holding their own but it would have been much better had they had their fourth brother.
"We no die here!" Palab screamed as he tossed another grenade into the door way. The explosion gave the pack a few seconds to think and Palab realized he no longer had any grenades left. He snarled in disapproval.
"Palab, here, take mine." One of the turret gunners stated as he removed his satchel from his armor and slid it too Palab. It was an odd gesture to see a grunt part with its spare grenade satchel, but the connection they shared was once again defying grunt logic.
"Me make good use of these." Palab cheered.
"More enemies! There, in upper window!" The other gunner yelled. Above Palab's pack formation was a group of combat forms, standing on the roof window.
"What!" The elite barked. "The roof defense squad must have been beaten. Cursed parasites!" The flood combat forms leapt from the upper ledge and upon the group. The turret gunners took aim and fired as they fell. Palab knew this wasn't good. In close combat his grunts would be massacred. The elite pulled out his plasma sword and began slicing the flood, but with every two he killed six would take its place. Palab then noticed that the flood were now advancing through the door that they had been defending for the past hour. Things were not looking good.
"Get away from turrets. We need bait." Palab shouted to his pack. The two grunts jumped away from the guns and retreated to Palab's position; flailing their arms in the air as they ran.
"RUNAWAY!" One of the grunts yelled as he panicked. Palab was confused and looked behind him. He then saw what spooked his pack brother. The elite was overwhelmed with combat forms and was swinging his sword wildly at anything that came near him. He suddenly roared in pain and collapsed to the floor as the flood finally took him down. The monstrous creatures wasted no time in turning their attention to Palab and his small pack.
"The elite is dead! Runaway!" The other grunt shouted with a panicked tone. The strength of the elite was gone. His pack now felt powerless against the much larger flood forms. But Palab stood his ground; snarling in frustration.
"We no die here!" Palab reached for a grenade and tossed it at the turret. "Grenades, throw all grenades!" Palab shouted to is pack. The other two grunts calmed down briefly and tossed grenades at the charging flood and plasma turrets.
The swelling charge of plasma glowed brightly and rippled throughout the room, as the turret guns and several grenades exploded. The cascading explosions knocked Palab and his brothers off their feet. The grenades and plasma charges on the turrets had leveled half of the combat forms, and put a small creator in the stone floor.
"Get to exit door. We hold position there. Wait for support." Palab barked his orders and his pack found a renewed since of strength. The flood combat forms, off balance and confused, stumbled around until they spotted the small group of grunts running to the door. They attacked.
The room was again filling with flood combat forms and Palab couldn't begin to count them. They poured from the upper window and cascaded through the door on the opposite side of the room. Palab could feel the tension boiling over his pack brothers as the flood charged toward them. Palab wanted to retreat, he wanted to run, but with so many flood forms in this one building all the packs of grunts in the base would be killed.
Three grunts against hundreds of floods, the odds were horrible. Palab could feel his pack brothers trembling at his side, staring at the onslaught of charging flood combat forms. The flood wailed and their gargled screams echoed throughout the chamber. The rumble under their feet echoed as they stampeded toward them. Palab and his two brothers stood at the door. Behind them was the open sky of halo and the base camp with hundreds of unsuspecting elites, hunters and other packs of grunts. Did Yammaeda have time to notify the base and get support? Did the roof squad call for backup before they were defeated?
No time to dwell on such things. Palab thought to himself.
"We no die here!" Palab picked up an elite plasma rifle that had landed near the door after the explosion, and then primed a grenade. His pack fallowed suit. They opened fire and tossed their last grenades. The grenades exploded in the midst of a group of flood and a soft rumble was heard; not the rumble of stampeding creatures, but the sound of tumbling stone. The flood were now a few feet away and the rumble from the three grenades grew louder. Suddenly the roof of the building caved in on top of the flood. Palab and his squad hopped backward and were covered by dust and debris as the stones crumbled upon the nest of flood forms. Another rumble came from beneath them, much louder then the first and the building slowly began to collapse deeper into the ground. The stone path at Palab's feet began to crumble away and he pushed his brothers back a few more feet. Dust erupted into the air and obscured their vision.
"What you do?" One of Palab's pack brothers questioned.
"Me not know." Palab replied. "Maybe building old, too many grenades weaken it." The three grunts looked at each other, then at the rubble now several feet beneath them as the dust settled. Bubbles of flood decay oozed throughout the sinkhole on the opposite side stood stranded combat forms eagerly looking for a way around the pit, but there was no path for them. Palab and his pack howled and cheered and danced as they marveled at their own survival.
"We live, but we lost our brother." Palab softly stated. "We not forget him in battles to come."
Doz Yammaeda with several Hunter pairs, and dozens of Spec-Ops elites, climbed the hill to the building and spotted the three Grunts cradling their heads as if they were sleeping. Yammaeda then noticed that the building was leveled and all of the flood dead, or trying to find away around the sinkhole.
"Divide the squads and begin destroying the parasites on the other side of the this… hole." Yammaeda stated to one of the Elites. "Hunters, blast this pit with your weapons and eradicate any of the parasites that remain." He then climbed the shill and nudged Palab on the shoulder. "How can you sleep now? What has happened here?"
"We not sleep, we… uhh, can not say." Palab stated softly, realizing that he had almost said too much.
"Then I order you to tell me what happened here?" Yammaeda stated. "I had not expected to see this area secure."
"Simple, sir." Palab stated as he stood to his feet, with his pack brothers standing at his side. "We no die here!" Doz Yammaeda looked at the happy pack of grunts and nodded an approval.
"Very well." Yammaeda replied. "The commander is setting up a strike team to take with him to the Control Room, and your pack has proven itself most useful in combat. The Brutes await us at the control room, so we will be leaving most of the grunts behind. Palab, I appoint you as pack leader of this platoon. Go into base and see the commander, he will give you your orders."
The three grunts waddled down the hill and into base camp. Palab held his head high as he passed his other pack brothers. It was if they immediately knew of the honor bestowed upon him, and several of them followed him to meet with the commander. At the central tower, the center of the base, Palab and several other grunts stood at the door to await the commander's summon. In the distance several Phantom's hovered above the ground as other grunts loaded supplies and vehicles for the elite's mission to the control room. Palab quickly spotted Etah ordering other grunts in where to load supplies, but Etah was extremely busy and did not see Palab.
Through the darkness of the command center door, walked several spec ops elite. But some were different, their armor and stance seemed much more aggressive and mysterious. Palab had never seen these special operations elites before, and their dark purple armor seemed to radiate mystery. The last elite to exit was the commander. His white armor glistened in the sun once he exited the darkness of the command center. His team trotted off to the phantoms as he looked down at Palab and clicked his two right mandibles together. He had a presence that no other elite had displayed in Palab's eyes and even his eyes seemed to glow with an odd radiance. Clearly, this was an elite to be feared.
"Sergeant Palab, I believe?" The commander questioned. Palab looked around and pointed to himself.
"Sergeant?" Palab was dumbfounded. A grunt being called a Sergeant was only spoken of by the grunts of legend.
"You advised Yammaeda to get help while you and your pack stood your ground against the flood. Yet against such forces, you now stand here… very much alive." The commander looked to the phantoms in the distance, and his mind filled with worry. The councilors were left alone to fend for themselves at such a time. He had to move quickly. "The Covenant is not what it once was. A new chain of command must be established if we are to survive this treachery, even the grunts must look for leadership. Palab, you and your grunts will defend base camp until I notify you otherwise. I'm taking one platoon of grunts with me, and leaving the rest. I'm also leaving four hunters in your care. If you have any questions speak with Yammaeda, he is still your superior and head of operations now." The commander walked off, his hands clasped behind his back. "We depart for the control room and to save the councilors. The brutes must be punished. I fear there is more at play here then we were led to believe." The commander and his strike force loaded the Phantoms and soared off to battle.
Palab looked to the top of the hill and could see Yammaeda and his squad returning from cleaning up the remaining flood, and then Palab felt it. He felt the eye of every grunt staring at him, marveling at what he had done. He had earned the respect of the elites. To become a Sergeant in the eyes of the mighty warrior elites was to be recognized as a warrior and to be seen as more then a simple grunt; he had earned respect.
"We wait for Sergeant Yammaeda, he give orders, and we follow." Palab shouted as loudly as his muffled lips could. The grunts obeyed and waited for the elite to descend from the hill. But one thing was for sure, at least for now, one Grunt stood taller then all the rest.