"No ordinary Grunt"
Streaking across the sky, a lone phantom quickly soared toward the now brute controlled region near the control room. Several banshees piloted by brutes greeted the phantom and escorted it towered Halo's main fort, while inside the phantom the roar of the brute chieftain filled the bay, "These pathetic elites are beneath us." Tartarus bellowed into his com terminal. The massive silver haired Brute towered over Miranda Keys as their Phantom speed toward the control room. Keyes flinched as the Brute snarled and roared at another brute on the other end of his communications uplink. "The prophets have made their choice, eradicate them. Destroy them all!"
"Yes Chieftain." The Brute replied from the uplink.
"So it would appear that the elite's commander has been quite busy on Halo." Tartarus thought aloud to himself, Commander Miranda Keys couldn't help but overhear. "Curse those Special Operations elites, they've been operating outside of the Hierarchs' wishes. He's built a base and amassed a formidable force without their knowledge. No matter, soon the Sacred Ring will fire. Thanks to this… human." Tartarus grabbed Miranda by the head, pulling her closer to him.
"Please be gentle with the reclaimer." 343 Guilty Spark snapped from beneath a brute's arm. "The reclaimer is needed in order to join…."
"Silence!" Tartarus roared toward the small glowing orb. Guilty Spark had personally seen how barbaric the beast was and remained silent; not willing to test his anger further.
The brute's massive strength was impossible to resist as Miranda slammed into its side, but she didn't care at this point, he wouldn't kill her. For some reason, he needed her alive, but something else was on her mind. Commander Keys was already thinking of a back up plan to her situation. The Brute spoke of a base, and a commander within the Elite ranks. In Amber Clad was sunk, very little could be done about that, but perhaps she could find aid in another source. If the Covenant was in some form of Civil War then perhaps the Elites could be of some use to her.
- - - - - - - - -
The weather was once again perfect on Delta Halo. Base camp was secure, and the only thing Palab had to worry about was the battle that loomed in orbit of the massive ring world. Within the central methane tent, Palab sighed and took a deep breath of un-recycled Methane. So many of his brethren were dieing above his head, the battle seemed to have no end. The Holy City of High Charity etched in the shadows of the Sacred Ring and plumes of red and orange dotted the sky around it. The battle was intense. The elites and grunts out numbered the brutes, but the brutes had power, strength and those stupid jackals and drones at their side.
Palab leaned back on his cushion and closed his eyes. He stuck a finger in his ear and rubbed it aggressively. He then pulled his finger out and sniffed it; laughing at the curious smell.
"Etah." Palab stated to the nearby grunt. "You smell." Etah leaned closer and smelled Palab's finger.
"Ewww gross!" Etah laughed. "Smell mine!" Etah then reached into his ear and repeated Palab's action. The two grunts laughed comically at each other and enjoyed the unusual free time they had.
The atmosphere inside the methane tent was relaxed. And while it was nothing like the home world they dreamed of, it did give the grunts the freedom of walking around without their cluttered masks and armor. None of the grunts in this platoon had ever seen there home planet, they were front line soldiers. They were born on High Charity after the human war had started, and could only dream of what their home was really like.
Palab thought of his mentor, Kokoz. He was something of a father figure to the pack and told many stories of their home world. Kokoz had seen many battles in his lifetime and his stories and tutelage was extremely useful, but Palab and his pack were young when they met him, and their memories of him were fuzzy.
Grunts matured quickly and the average age of a grunt that was ready for combat was eight weeks. But most grunts within the covenant never lived to the rip old age of twenty. The oldest grunt within the covenant was seven, and he was considered a breeder so he saw very little combat. But times had changed and perhaps the time would come that the grunts would be permitted to go home and see their home world with their own eyes.
Palab and Etah, walked over to the food dispenser. They each grabbed a small bowl and pressed a small button at eye level. A funnel then slid from within the wall of the food dispenser; hanging over the table where the grunts laid their bowls. Etah watched as the funnel began to slowly squeeze out his meal and he attacked it. He gripped the dispenser in his claw and squeezed it until a pasty substance was forcefully propelled into his bowl.
"Etah, you that hungry?" Palab questioned. "Food nipple break, I make you fix."
"Me still eldest." Etah laughed. "If me break, me make you fix." Etah picked up his bowl and sniffed the meal aggressively. "Me not get ration yesterday. Me over slept. Yammaeda not happy and make me work longer." He waddled to a nearby pack of grunts, all of them eating various colors of the pasty substance. Palab patiently waited for the food nipple to slowly squeeze out the paste. He was growing increasingly frustrated at how slow the past was falling and grabbed the end of the rubber funnel aggressively; forcefully squeezing the substance out faster and into his bowl. Palab then looked down the line at the other food dispensers and watched as some of the other grunts, which were less impatient, actually begin to suck their ration of food out of the dispenser with their mouths. The food nipple was a staple of all grunt methane tents. With so many grunts within the Covenant it was increasingly difficult to feed them all. The synthesized food nipple became the best option to keeping the grunts feed and ready for battle. Its nutrient rich contents provided a grunt with a full days worth of vitamins and minerals, and the different colors represented the different flavors. Palab didn't care, he just wanted to eat.
After giving the paste a quick sniff, Palab joined his pack brother, a small circle of grunts and sat down on the soft plastic floor. The other grunts looked at Palab curiously, almost as if they were in awe. Palab could only gaze back at them; confused. Etah simple ate his paste.
"You're the great Sergeant that everyone is talking about." A smaller grunt stated in their natural tongue. "Why are you eating with us?" Palab didn't know how to answer. "The elites respect you and gave you a rank in their chain of command. You're different from us. You should be eating with them."
"I'm still a grunt to the elites." Palab responded. He didn't like where the conversation was going and he didn't like the attention that the other grunts were giving him.
"He is right, Palab." Etah added as he licked past from his fingers.
"He's not right." Palab countered.
"He is right!" Etah snapped. "I've known you all of your life and you've always been smarter and not scared of the elites." Etah's words cut deep into his younger pack brother. Palab knew that if anyone knew him better then he knew himself, it was his older brother Etah. "You were the first to walk, and to explore High Charity. You were the first to speak and you… you were the first at everything. I love you Palab, and I'm telling you the truth; you are special. You were born two hours after me but you are the best at everything."
Palab was speechless. Everyone seemed to be supporting him but at the same time he felt horrible about it. He didn't want to be special, he wanted to be like his brothers. "You can make things better for us all. You can show the elites that we should be treated right." Etah turned his gaze back to his empty bowl. As pack leader it was his role to lead the pack, to be the best at everything, but Palab was clearly his superior. He was smart, and skilled in combat, even the elites had seen it. Unlike Palab, Etah had only received a small promotion, but Palab had been given an official rank; a Sergeant. It was unheard of for a grunt to receive such a thing from the elites.
The inner door to the methane tent opened and a lone grunt in red armor hurriedly waddled in.
"Palab, sir." The grunt spoke directly to Palab in his best covenant speak. "Yammaeda calling. He need you at tower. Urgent!" Palab looked to the group and quickly tossed back his last bit of paste.
"I go now." Palab replied. "Etah, you come later."
"Yes sir." Etah replied with a soft sigh.
Palab knew that Etah was only following the discipline of his rank, but he hated his older pack brother calling him Sir. Palab shuffled on all fours till he arrived at his locker near the exit of the tent. He pulled on his black armor and attached his face mask. Without asking for assistance, a nearby grunt quickly adjusted his Methane mixture and output, from the controls on his back. Palab adjusted the volume in his mask and breathed it deeply.
The recycled methane was nothing compared to the pure Methane of the tent, but all grunts had become use to the nature of the breathing apparatus. The other grunt gave Palab a grumble and he returned the gesture in thanks. The grunt then walked off, leaving Palab to finish prepping his armor on his own. Palab stepped into the air lock and quickly adjusted his face mask. A small amount of oxygen slipped into his mask and for a second Palab gagged. He held his breath for a few seconds, and adjusted his mask. Palab exhaled and took a breath. Everything was fine.
"You ready." Another grunt stated, shocking Palab.
Palab jumped from the sudden words, "I no see you." He looked at the grunt and recognized him as the one that approached him earlier and summoned him to see Yammaeda. "Me ready." Palab pressed the button to the airlock and the outer door opened. The sunlight struck their eyes and they ventured out toward the center of camp.
- - - - - - - -
Doz Yammaeda was worried. He paced back and forth across the room and occasionally looked out the window at the camp several feet below. The tower was an excellent command locale, and provided an excellent view of the ruins. If battle began, the tower would be the worst position to be in, but that was the least of his concerns. He looked at the communication from the Spec Ops Commander and began to read:
"The brutes have taken the passage to the control room. They have the index and the Oracle. Things are not looking good but as luck would have it the Arbiter is alive…
"We have engaged the Brutes and the Arbiter has made it into the control room. We will assist him as soon as we dispose of the Brutes guarding the exterior. I have sent several warriors to aid the Arbiter and some of them were once Honor Guards; skilled with the blade and beam. Many councilors have also gone to his aid. It is only a matter of time before we end the Brutes control of this area….."
But that was the last transmission from the front line. Yammaeda wanted to join his brothers in combat, but he was left behind; left behind to watch over a base filled with grunts. He wanted to contact the Commander, to see if the battle was going well, but he knew that contacting him would lead the brutes directly to the base if they were monitoring communications. But what concerned him mostly was the last transmission he intercepted from Tartarus:
"Brethern it is time… Purge the unworthy elites. We have entered the Control Room of the sacred ring and in moments everything shall be made right. The elites have a base somewhere on the Sacred Ring, find it, and strike deep into their unworthy hides! Let the last thing they see be the awesome strength of my Tribe. Come, human, it is easy. Take the icon in your hands…"
The transmission stopped immediately. It was being broadcasted on every frequency across the Covenant band, Tartarus wanted everyone to hear it, but it was suddenly terminated. Perhaps the Arbiter and his forces had arrived, or maybe the weak human had done something. Still, it was of no concern to Yammaeda, the great journey was about to begin and not by the hands of the Elites. The Brutes were now the favorites and that meant that only the Brutes and Prophets would be permitted to go. But why did Tartarus have a human with him? Such thoughts wouldn't matter if the sacred ring was activated, so Yammaeda brushed the thought aside. He had to be concerned with the more pressing matter; the Brutes knew of the base and they were coming.
Below Yammaeda, four grunts in shades protected the tower from rouge attacks. Palab and his escort crossed the small stone pathway near the tower door as two of the grunts, mounted in the stationary plasma turrets, watched closely.
The Special Operations division of elites had never met defeat, and not until the human war had they met a foe worthy of targeting. The human Demon had changed everything within the Spec Ops code of conduct. The Demon alone had made fighting the humans worthy, and every elite throughout the fleet eagerly attempted the "trials" in order to join the ranks of Special Operations; only so that they could test their might against the human's finest warrior. The Demon was partially the blame for the Civil War.
Palab and his escort finally reached the top of the tower and Palab felt a strong urge to take a nap, but fought the natural tendency and entered the room. Yammaeda had not noticed him until he knocked on the wall of the room.
Yammaeda looked up from his moment of thought, "Palab. We have much to plan for. Escort, return to your duties."
"Yes sir." The escort replied. He then looked to Palab and garbled something in there own language, fully aware the Yammaeda had not taken the time to learn grunt speak. Palab looked curiously at his brethren and pondered what he had just said to him. Palab gave a simple head bob and the grunt waddled back down the stairs.
"What did he say?" Yammaeda asked.
Palab hesitated and replied, "… he say 'good day'." A clear lie and Yammaeda knew it, but didn't care, there were other pressing matters at hand.
"The brutes throughout this region of the fleet are looking for this base." Yammaeda stated sharply. "And this presents a problem. Until the Commander returns with more warriors for our cause, we are severally out numbered and out powered. The four hunters within our ranks will serve us well, but not even they can withstand the might of a full platoon of brutes."
"You have plan?" Palab questioned.
"The commander left clear instructions that all Spec Ops squads throughout the fleet were to rally to this position in the event that the Prophets betray us. He will broadcast the location to trusted ships once he deems the situation necessary for that… however." Yammaeda paused. He thought about the last transmission from the major and how it had been hours since his last check in. But then he quickly remember Tartarus' last broadcast ten minutes ago, he had no time. "… however I fear the worst. If my brothers have fallen to the hand of the Brutes, then no one will know of this bases' location."
"You call fleet ship masters." Palab suggested. "Give them rally point location here."
"Me?" Yammaeda chuckled at the thought of contacting the fleet ship masters and notifying them of the location. He would be strung up by his mandibles for breaking rank in such a way. "That won't be possible. The spec ops squads know the code of conduct in battle. 'Follow the chain of command.' They would ignore my broadcast completely. Plus, I'm quite certain the Brutes will be listening. It would only take them a few moments to unscramble the frequency and learn of our location. No, for me to contact the ship masters would be pointless." Yammaeda walked toward the window and glared toward the dark region of Delta Halo. The ring was drifting into the shadow of its orbit around the blue world. "I have a mission for you."
"Mission?" Palab questioned.
"I'm putting you in charge of a squad of Spec Ops grunts. Form your team and …" Yammaeda was interrupted as the tower slowly began to rumble. Yammaeda then realized that it wasn't the tower, but the entire region was shaking. He gripped the communication's terminal and glared out the window as the horizon near the contrl room began to glow. "By the gods, this is it." There was a massive flash of light from the distance, pulsed into the air. The ball of white-blue energy glowed majestically as it flew up into Halo's atmosphere and then into space. It seemed as if the entire ring world no longer had life as a silhouetted darkness crossed the world. The energy used to fire the weapon had drained all of the energy from the ring, and any form of lighting dimmed; including the lighting within the tower. The ball of energy flared into space toward the center of delta halo's axis. The center of the ring pulsed with another form of energy, but it faded as if there was some form of failure. All eyes watched as the pulse of energy met with the exact center of halo's rotation and dispersed.
The power drain ceased and the lights began to power on.
"What happen?" Palab questioned. "This not Great Journey, is it?"
"No… thankfully." Yammaeda replied, but he wasn't really sure himself. "I would imagine the great journey being slightly different. I believe something else has transpired. Perhaps our brothers are not done fighting yet." Yammaeda had a renewed since of purpose and exhaled. If his brothers were still fighting then so would he. "Perhaps the great journey was prevented. No matter, we have our own lives to contend with now. Form your team and begin patrolling the western region of the camp. You will alternate your location every hour, moving west, north, east, south and so fourth. Continue until you've circled the camp. It is a basic parameter patrol and be sure to take plenty of supplies, you may be out there for a while. Any questions?"
"We take spare Ghosts?" Palab asked. "Cover more ground faster."
"Very well." Yammaeda agreed. "Notify me on the transmitter if you see or engage any hostiles; including humans or the parasites. But be cautious and use short range frequencies only."
"Yes sir. Me go now. Prep supplies and team." Palab hustled out of the room and down the stairs. He was greeted by the escort as he snored loudly at the door. "Wake up! We have mission!"
- - - - - - - -
Palab assembled a squad of twelve grunts, and they gathered at an old stone structure near the central tower. The structure was partially covered by overgrown vegetation and the numerous underground rooms provide adequate storage holds for vehicles and supplies. Inside the ruin were dozens of ghosts, three wraith tanks and a handful of specters. Etah and his grunt supply teams eagerly assisted Palab in prepping six ghosts for his patrol. And Etah himself would be on the team.
"Why not all get ghosts?" Etah asked.
"If base attacked, other ghosts needed here." Palab stated. "Two per ghost. Etah, you lead second section. I lead first. You follow behind out of view, in case me section miss something." Palab then looked over their weapon arsenal and thought carefully of any future encounters. "We face brutes, they be in packs. Need many grenades." The grunts all gargled happily at those words. They all loved the blue-sparkle-of-death. "We need to travel light; fast. One Fuel Rod gunner in each section. Enemy not worry about us cause we grunts. We fool them." Palab picked two grunts, one from each section, and handed them a Fuel Rod cannon. "You ride in center of sections. You only fire when enemy in clear sight. You in center, you can fire in front and behind." The grunts all chattered amongst themselves about Palab's plan. Palab was smart, and they all knew it. Usually it was only the elites that would devise such detailed strategies.
Palab thought more about the enemies they would most certainly encounter while on patrol, "We also fight stupid jackals and drones. We not worry. They cowards. Jackal hide behind shield and run at us, they not smart like us, use grenades and stupid jackals die good. Drones not fight from sky long, they get tired, then land. If drones come, we take cover. When they land, we attack. Flood will be problem. If see one flood, there will be more. Use grenade and needler on flood."
Etah was taken back by his pack brother's plan. He had taken everything into account; even the drones inability to fly for a long time. Despite his brother's feelings of wanting to not be special, it was obvious to all the grunts that Palab was not ordinary. Etah was amazed at how much his younger brother had changed in the past several hours. He thought that perhaps the battle against the flood earlier that day was luck. The nearby Quarantine Zone, where the sentinels battled aggressively against the flood, had one break in its wall; the door where Palab and his pack made their fame. It had taken Etah all day to realize that the building collapsing on itself actually stopped the flood from entering the region from that route. Had Palab known this and porpusefully destroyed the building? In some ways Etah wished he was there fighting with Palab, to see how he handled the battle, but this time he would see Palab with his own eyes. He had to see why the elites respected his little brother.
Palab jumped into the pilot seat of a ghost and another grunt jumped on the side. The pedals adjusted to its shortest position, but the little grunt still couldn't reach the foot pedals, but it was fine, the grunts had long learned to compensate their driving style without the use of the ghost's peddles. Etah quickly walked up to the side of the ghost and looked at Palab, as the ghost's vertical thrusters raised it above the ground.
"Palab, you know that flood stop coming when building fall?" Etah questioned.
"Me knew." Palab replied. "Me not know that building would fall, but me knew that flood would stop coming. Hurry, Etah. We need to start patrol now."
"Yes sir." Etah waddled to lead his section as Palab and his three ghost units sped out of the building and accelerated westward; out of camp.
"Etah hurry!" Etah's rider yelled as he watched Palab's section vanish out of view. The grunt jumped onto the side of a ghost.
"Im coming!" Etah replied. He jumped into his ghost, and quickly began to follow the path behind his younger brother as the area was engulfed in darkness; Halo had finally entered the dark side of its orbit behind the massive world. Etah, with two ghosts follwing behind him, thought hard about what it could mean for a grunt to achieve so much as Palab had in the past day. "Messiah." Etah thought to himself. The possibility was unfounded and just a legend, but what if it were true. Could it be that his younger pack brother might be the Grunt of legend? "The mighty grunt that will lead us home."