Red vs. Blue: Beginnings

Chapter Ten: Poms and Monitors

Blue Pelican

Asking Church what he disliked would have been a waste of time, considering that he pretty much disliked anything and everything on God's green Earth (or alien planet as the case might be). A better question would have been what he disliked particularly.

Unfortunately for Church, many of the things that he disliked particularly were currently having an impact on him. Tucker was one of these things and he was currently trying to save him. Flowers was someone that made him uneasy and, given the size of the pelican and the fact that a banshee had been parked in there, he didn't have much room to keep his distance. Finally, there was the fact that the pilot of the banshee was in there with them-Wyoming.

"Well private, we meet again," said the Brit, as pompous as ever. "Have you learnt to get shot properly yet?"

"Can it assfucker," muttered Church, not too keen in engaging in conversation.

"I see that they gave you your own armour," sneered Wyoming. "What did you do to deserve that? Actually hit something?"

"Er, yeah, I did," lied Church. "Want to see a recreation of it?"

"Now now you two, that's enough," interrupted Flowers.

"Ah yes, you're right, I shouldn't bully incompetent soldiers," said Wyoming snidely, getting a nasty look from Church. "So what can I do to help you old chaps?"

"Shoot yourself in the head," Church muttered.

Flowers either didn't here Church's comment or simply ignored it; "We have a problem with one of our soldiers. We require your assistance."

"Oh really? And who would that be? Private Church here? I wouldn't be surprised."

"Wyoming, you're the only problem here," snapped Church, fingering for his pistol.

"Oh don't worry, I can help," 'reassured' Wyoming. "So what's the matter? The other side of your bed too cold?"

If looks could kill, Wyoming would have been lying on the floor with blood oozing out of every opening. Unfortunately for Church, that wasn't the case. It was bad enough that he had to work with Wyoming, but the bastard just had to bring references to Tex into this, no matter how subtle.

As Church thought of his current options for killing the mercenary, Flowers finished his explanation as to how Tucker had been captured. "So will you help us?" he asked.

"Of course, helping people is what I do." There was an uneasy silence. "For the right price of course." The awkwardness passed.

"Very well," said Flowers. "There's no price that I wouldn't pay to bring Tucker back."

"Splendid. Well let's set after him while we negotiate my fee. Shame I'm not being hired to assassinate him, but perhaps I can knock off a few Reds to make up for it."

"You know, I'd be willing to pay you to assassinate Tucker after you've saved him," offered Church.

"Oh do be quiet lad. If you're going to offer me jobs at least have a decent amount of money." With that, Wyoming walked back to the cockpit to negotiate with Flowers, who was currently showing his gratitude.

"Cockbite," muttered Church. He turned to face Wyoming's banshee, no doubt stolen some poor Elite. Church hated the Covenant as much as anyone else in the UNSC but he couldn't help feeling sorry for someone who had experienced a gloating Pom in their final moments.

Yet something was amiss. Banshee's weren't designed for space flight. Wyoming must have hitched a ride off another craft, one with slip space capabilities. But why be in this part of the galaxy in the first place? The Covenant hadn't reached this sector so he wouldn't be receiving any missions for shooting Elites or beating up Grunts. And the Red and Blue War here was just as dull. He wouldn't be heading through here unless…

Unless he was already on a mission.

Something was up. And Church was going to find out what. At least, that's what he would have done if he cared enough.

Red Pelican

"I feel sick sir," moaned Griff.

"Good. As long as you're in pain, I'm happy."

The Reds of Blood Gulch Outpost Number One had finally set off after the fleeing Blues. Griff had been quick to point out that they were probably way ahead of them by now, but that still didn't stop Sarge, totally devoted to the honourable Red cause.

Or too stupid to realise that they didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of catching up to them and the pelican would probably run out of fuel, considering that it didn't have slip space capabilities.

"Sir, I enjoy seeing Griff in pain as much as you do, I still think that we should do something," said Simmons, who was currently flying the craft.

"What, suddenly you're siding with the lard tub?"

"No sir, I just don't want to have to clear my visor again."

Griff chuckled at this but quickly stopped as Sarge turned to look at him. "You've got a point Simmons. Private Griff is quickly becoming a liability."

"Oh boy, here we go," sighed Griff.

Sarge may or may not have had his fun but Griff never got to find out as Simmons inadvertently came to his rescue.

"Er Sarge, I think you should look at this."

Grumbling, the sergeant obliged. "You better have a good reason for this private. Can't you see that I'm torturing Griff here?"

"Sorry sir, but something's amiss. I've picked up something on radar."

"What is it? A giant ass you can kiss?" asked Griff, coming to join them.

Simmons ignored him, a sign that was completely engrossed. "A small object's heading towards us, about double the speed of the pelican."

"How small?" asked Sarge. "The size of Griff's brain?"

Griff turned a shade of dark red as Simmons continued; "Larger actually. About the size of a soccer ball."

"But if it's so small, how can we pick it up?"

"That's the weird thing," said Simmons. "By all rights, I shouldn't be able to. However, it's producing an incredible amount of energy for something so small."

"Definitely not Griff's brain," murmured Sarge. "How far away from us is it now?"

Simmons's face lost all colour; "Fifty metres."

Sarge quickly took control; "Everyone, brace for impact! Griff, get yourself in a position that ensures you suffer horribly!"

"Excuse me, that hardly seems logical," piped up a voice.

Sarge turned to face Griff; "You disagreeing with me?"

"What? I didn't say anything!" protested Griff, although agreeing with what the voice said.

"The Reclaimer is right, it was me," piped up the same voice. All eyes turned to the source. There was a flash of yellow light and what looked like a small orb appeared. A yellow electronic eye swept the pelican's interior.

"Three Reclaimers? How fortunate! The Flood may yet be contained."

"Alright bub, who the hell are you?" shouted Sarge, cocking his shotgun.

"Oh yes, I haven't introduced myself yet," chirped the orb. "I am Monitor 823543, known as Zealous Artefact."

"Really? And what's your purpose for being here?" asked Sarge.

"Extenuating circumstances, due to recent events at Installation 05," said the Monitor. "Time is of the essence however, we must prepare to defend that which can destroy the Flood. After that, I must return to my installation."

"And which one would that be?" asked Simmons, aware that there were seven halos.

"Why, Installation 08 of course."