0204 Hours, March 29, 2535 (Military Calendar) /
Delphi Noctem System, Big River Valley, Planet Daedalus
Like wraiths, Blue Team swept silently through the night. The four massive figures moved in tandem, their weapons at the ready and their minds sharp. Kelly took point, her natural speed easily carrying her past her companions. John followed closely behind her, then Will, with Fred bringing up the rear.
The four Spartans slowed their sprint, stopping among the larger rock outcroppings that surrounded the Covenant base camp. Three hundred meters past them rested a large Covenant installation, first spotted in the area two days prior.
"Blue Four," the leader whispered, his message transmitting to the sniper positioned on a ridge over a kilometer behind them, "is the wall clear?"
Three full seconds passed before her indicator light flashed green on his HUD.
Her pause was enough to worry him. Of all of the Spartans, Linda was the most certain. She didn't say anything she didn't mean, and she didn't hesitate without reason. "Copy," he said, doing his best to banish any doubt. "Blue Two, Blue Three, sweep around the south side and climb the wall at Point Delta. Blue Five and I will cross over at Point Charlie. Blue Four, keep us appraised of their troop movements. Do not fire or reveal your position unless absolutely necessary." Four green lights shone on his HUD. "Move."
The team set off in a silent dash, ghosting through the trees like shadows. The Master Chief kept his eyes trained on the defensive wall that surrounded the alien compound. There was no sign of life. No Elites shouting orders in their strange, warbled tongue. No Jackals moving in the staggered towers. There weren't even any Grunts, doing their best to curl up and sleep at their posts.
Strange.
Blue Five – Will-043 – was the first to arrive at Insertion Point Charlie. It was a small access port on the northern side of the compound's outer wall. Will knelt at the base of the door and ran a line of thermite-carbon cord down the seam of the door. "Ready," he said, holding up the detonator.
John nodded. Will triggered the T-C-C. The line burned brightly, shining like a miniature sun in the dark night. The cord finished its burn, and the doors fell inward away from them. In a flash, both Spartans ducked through the doorway.
John emerged first, scanning for a sentry. When he had confirmed that there were no risks to them, he flashed his green status indicator and moved down the hallway. Will silently fell in behind him.
They quickly fell into a pattern of clearing corridors as they made their way toward the center of the installation. They were practiced in this exercise – it was the third such mission Blue Team had carried out in as many days. The Covenant seemed to be after something, and command was bound and determined that they not get it. And so Blue Team had been dispatched – their sole purpose to disrupt whatever operation the Covenant was undertaking.
Fred had taken a particular pleasure in these recent missions, as they afforded him the opportunity to use some of the highest-grade explosives available to them.
This time, though, felt somehow different from the others. He checked his mission clock. Five minutes since door breach.
They should have encountered something by now.
"Something's off, Chief," Will said, vocalizing John's thoughts.
The Master Chief did not pause to look at his teammate. Whether he agreed or not, it was never wise for a leader to show hesitation in front of their troops.
But something was off. There was no denying it. A facility this size should have contained hundreds of Covenant troops, and they'd yet to encounter a single soul – living or otherwise. With every second that ticked by the feeling of foreboding grew.
His comm crackled to life, startling him from his introspection. "There's something you should see over here, Chief," Fred said.
John's senses flared. Fred was too smart to break radio silence like that behind enemy lines. What was he thinking? John set his status light to yellow.
"I don't think we need to worry about comm silence, sir," Kelly added. "There's no one left around here to listen."
That left him truly perplexed. Satellite imagery showed standard troop movement within the compound mere hours ago. Short of another Spartan fireteam, it would have taken a full division of ODSTs to clear this facility – and the Helljumpers weren't exactly known for leaving their battlegrounds in such spotless condition. There was no way the aliens had all just left.
He turned to Will, who shrugged.
"They wouldn't break radio silence for no reason," the other Spartan said.
Though it grated against his training, John agreed. He nodded, and the pair moved in the direction of their teammates. Neither spoke as they traveled through the complex, but the tension mounted exponentially with every hallway and side room they cleared.
Eventually they found Fred and Kelly, who hastily ushered them into what appeared to be a barracks.
"Sitrep," the Master Chief ordered, stopping in the doorway. "You better have a good reason for breaking protocol in enemy territory."
"I don't think this is enemy territory anymore, Chief," Fred answered, a smirk obvious in his voice. "Step through the door and you'll understand. I'd hate to spoil the surprise."
John shook his head as he stepped through the alien door. Fred was acting strange, but it wasn't completely out of character of him to push a few buttons. As far as the "surprise," though? After all he'd seen and done, there were few things could surprise the Master Chief.
What he saw in that room was one of them.
Hundreds of alien corpses littered the floor. Elites, Brutes, Grunts, Jackals . . . dozens of each species were strewn throughout the room. Plasma burns scored the walls. Glassy craters betrayed the use of plasma grenades throughout the barracks. What John assumed passed as beds for one of the assorted aliens had been turned over, forming what may have been makeshift barricade at the door.
Judging by the bloodbath inside, the barricade had failed.
He didn't know what to say. Fred and Kelly were good, even by Spartan standards . . . but they weren't this good.
"What in the . . ." Will trailed off, feeling as much at a loss for words as John was.
"What happened here?" the Master Chief asked.
"Difficult to say," Fred answered. "But if I were betting man, I'd say they wiped each other out."
John cocked his head to one side. That wasn't right. This facility was built for more than 300 soldiers, and even the most aggressive of their warriors – the Brutes and Elites – hadn't displayed in-fighting anywhere near this magnitude.
"You're going to need to show your work on that one," Will said skeptically.
"Best I can figure, there were two groups," Fred said, picking his way through clumps of corpses. "Gators in here, defending something. Apes made their way inside and then they wiped each other out. It looks like the littler guys got caught somewhere in the middle."
"You mean the Elites made that barricade to keep the Brutes out?" Will asked, disbelief clear in his voice. "What would they be fighting each other for?"
Kelly, having arrived at the back of the barracks first, knelt over the corpse of a red-armored Elite Major. The creature had been bisected, his feet lying on the ground beside his head. She quietly pried something from his hand and lifted it into view of the others. "Ugly here had a pretty tight grip on this thing," she said. After a moment's contemplation she added, "It doesn't look like any weapon I've seen before."
John studied the object in her hand. It looked like nothing more than a stone with some foreign shapes carved into one side. It was an oblong shape, no longer than 20 centimeters, with a wide base that narrowed unevenly to one end. Looking at it made him inexplicably uncomfortable.
How could some rock bring on this kind of infighting? He wondered. He continued to stare at the stone, trying in vain to identify what gave him such unease.
"Blue Two," he said, calling Fred from where he was investigating a cluster of dead Brutes, "stow the rock. Blue Five, help him. And make sure you've got all of this recorded. Section Three's going to have a field day with this one." He turned back to the barrack's entrance. "Blue Three, you're with me. Let's finish our sweep and secure this place for the tech teams."
Four status lights flashed green. Will took the stone from Kelly, who in turn made for the entranceway. The "captured" facility would be a major find for the UNSC – the weaponry alone would be invaluable to the war effort.
The Master Chief's mind, however, was drawn back to the bizarre stone. So many Covenant warriors dead, and for a seemingly ordinary rock? There had to be some explanation that he wasn't seeing. He stared intently as Will slipped the rock into a satchel and handed it to Fred, who slung it over his back.
There was something about that stone. Something he wasn't seeing yet. Perhaps if he could touch it, he would . . .
A blaring alarm tore him from his fugue state. A bright warning symbol flashed on his HUD.
"Spike in radiation levels, Chief," Kelly said, alarm growing in her voice. "Something's not right here."
John watched the counter on his HUD. The levels continued to rise dramatically. A quick consultation showed that the radiation flare was consistent with a nuclear reactor overload.
"We're pulling out, immediately," he said. "You have ten seconds to police whatever gear you can carry."
Fred dropped to his knee and opened the satchel he was carrying. He removed the stone to make room while Will shoveled Covenant plasma weapons inside.
"Hold onto that stone," John ordered, pointing at Fred. "It still might do us some good."
He checked the radiation level again. If it rose any higher the Spartans might undergo irreparable damage. If they didn't explode first. "Time's up," he said. "Exfil, double-time."
The Spartans left the facility at a blind sprint, quite literally running for their lives. It took them only ten minutes to arrive at the Pelican gunship requisitioned for the mission. Linda had already prepared the ship for takeoff, and they were launched before the gangplank managed to close.
It wasn't an instant too soon. Behind them, the facility abruptly vanished – replaced by a small sun as its nuclear reactor erupted. The surrounding area burned to glass in an instant and explosive force buffeted the dropship as it fled.
The troop bay remained silent for several moments. Even Spartans could get winded, and after a sprint like that, "winded" was an understatement.
"Chief," Will eventually forced out between labored breaths, "if I had known there were going to be fireworks like that, I might not have come along."
John smiled at Will's joke. Growing up, Will had constantly been joking about one thing or another. The endless war had seemed to silence that part of him. It was gratifying to see that it still existed.
"That's why I didn't tell you," he said with a nod. His eyes were then drawn once again to the stone, still tightly clutched in Fred's hand. The Master Chief turned to the cockpit and called out, "Blue Four, take us home. I think we've got something that Doctor Halsey will be very interested in."
Ruka 'Karomee glowered as he tracked the demons' escaping vessel.
He had hoped that his trap might have snared at least one of them, as slim a chance as that had been. But it was no matter. They would each meet their end soon enough.
The planet thy trod upon was but a small colony, even by the heretics' standards, but it held value they would never understand. As confided to him by his overseer, the Minister of Absolution, an artifact of grave importance was hidden on this world. It was for this very purpose that the facility had been deployed, alongside an entire combat division led by the veteran Major Loro 'Nunamee. The Minister had also insisted on deploying two full Warpacks of Jiralhanae to accompany them.
'Karomee had wondered if it was not a mistake on the Minister's part; sending eighty of the savage beasts on a mission that required such penance and delicacy was sure to end poorly.
But his place was not to question.
Less than twenty cycles passed before a transmission was intercepted from the Major. The audio was practically unintelligible, but the Minister had come to 'Karomee and thrust upon him the title of Ossoona – one that, at the time, he would have preferred to refuse. Major 'Nunamee was a warrior of honor, undeserving of the ignominy of being spied upon.
But it was not his place to question.
When he eventually entered the facility, 'Karomee felt as though he had been smashed beneath the weight of such mindless violence. An entire division of proud warriors wiped out . . . at their own hands. 'Nunamee stood in the center of the bloodbath. Before the Ossoona could even question what had happened, 'Nunamee turned to face him, igniting his energy blade.
"You will not take it from me!" he shouted. "I thought you a warrior of honor, but now I see you for what you are. You are a thief! A coward! No better than the savages at your feet," he continued, pointing his blade to the dead Jiralhanae that littered the entranceway to the barracks, "nor the traitors at mine!" At this, he gestured to the Sangheili that had fallen around him. He then turned his manic eyes on the artifact in his hand. He held it aloft almost reverently before turning his gaze back to 'Karomee and spitting, "This relic is a gift from the Ancient Ones, and it is mine. Claim it if you can, Ossoona."
He charged.
The major was a proud warrior, and a fine duelist.
He was no match for 'Koramee.
'Nunamee died the way he had lived – proudly. Even in death, his grip upon his weapon did not fail him. Nor did his grip on the artifact, held so tightly in his non-dominant hand that blood had begun to seep from where the jagged edges laid open his flesh.
Something strange surrounded the stone. An aura so strong it felt like static electricity coursing through the air. Like a bolt of lightning that struck his hearts. The major's words chilled him. The blind rage in his fallen brother's voice was uncharacteristic, his accusations baseless. His betrayal was neither sensical nor precedented.
'Koramee's eyes were drawn once again to the stone. The Major had challenged him for it. Surely the artifact could not have brought on this massacre?
The Ossoona Ruka 'Koramee had never turned his back on an enemy. He had never skulked into the darkness when a battle could be fought face-to-face and hand-to-hand. He was a warrior, his honor equaled only by his courage. No foe had ever caused him to retreat.
For reasons the Ossoona himself could not explain, he left the stone where it lay.
He traveled the facility, reassuring himself that he was doing so in the hopes of finding some survivor who could explain to him what had occurred here. Deep in his hearts, he knew that he was afraid of that stone. Afraid of what it meant.
The Jiralhanae were savages. In the heretic's tongue they were called "brutes," and nothing could be more accurate. 'Karomee could easily believe that the gods would seek to punish them for their disloyalty and lack of faith. But Major 'Nunamee was the strictest adherent to the faith that the Ossoona had ever known. How could so faithful a servant be the recipient of so foul a punishment?
So deep was his introspection that his own communications device startled him when it sounded.
'Karomee immediately activated the apparatus and was unsurprised to hear the Minister of Absolution's scornful voice scratch its way into the air like a drowning Unggoy clawing its way to methane.
"Ossoona," the Minister barked. "The facility has been breached under your watch. Four of the heretics have entered. The site is to be cleansed."
'Karomee cursed himself. How could he have been so blind as to allow this? "I shall cleanse them myself," he responded gravely. The presence of heretics so close to the relic was blasphemy in and of itself, but perhaps the ritualistic removal of such filth would do the Ossoona well. If nothing else, the humans would serve as stress relief.
"You will not," the Minister barked back with enough authority to immediately silence any thought to the contrary. "You are to cleanse the entire site. Nothing is to be left unburnt."
The Ossoona's mandibles parted slightly in frustration. Four infidels were hardly worth his time, much less worth the razing of an artifact and the facility which had unearthed it.
He had but opened his mouth to voice his dissent when the Minister continued speaking.
"They are demons, Ossoona. Not even one such as yourself would survive an attempted cleansing." The Minister paused dramatically. "Your punishment will be meted out for allowing these demons to sully an artifact left behind to us by the gods. But for now, your mission is to destroy the facility and any unclean hand therein."
The Ossoona briefly wondered how the Minister of Absolution had failed to notice 300 warriors slaughtering one another but had detected the presence of four of humanity's most elusive warriors.
But then, it was not his place to question.
He first set the reactor to overload – hoping against all reason that the demons would be destroyed in the ensuing explosion. He then [retreated](1) from the facility, going against every fiber of his existence to allow the continued presence of such defiling filth within. He withdrew to a distance from which he could observe the demons' hasty retreat.
Now, as he tracked their ungainly vehicle, only one thought railed through the Ossoona's mind. They had the artifact. They had defiled that which was most sacred to him. Those two actions would soon be rectified, their blood serving as penance.
That was his place, and he would fulfill it to the utmost.
Author's Note: Hey everybody, guess who's back. If you guessed it's me, then excellent guess.
This story is being written as something of a thought experiment for me, and I hope that you enjoy it.
The story is being edited by the wickedly talented, one and only, Separatist Supporter.