A/N: Shout out to Just a Crazy-Man and Starblaster63 for the support.
Epoloch system, storm covenant fleet orbiting Forerunner shield world 001, July 2557
"Didact..., Didact..., Didact..."
That one word, that single word was broadcasted towards the metallic sphere. At every thirty-minute interval for the past three years, that word was uttered by the formidable fleet hovered over the shield world like moths to a flame. The contingent of ships consisted of at sixteen capital warships and a single CAS-class assault carrier, the Song of Retribution served as the fleet's flagship.
Unlike their human counterparts, Covenant vessels were constructed with more logic in mind. The UNSC had its command area located in the ship's bow. While the Covenant had there's buried deep within. Protected by reinforced armored hulls, making them impervious to anything less than a mortal blow. The differences did not end there. Rather than surround themselves with all manner of control interfaces, Elites preferred to command from the center of an ascetical platform. It was held in place by a latticework of opposing gravity beams.
Seated in the command was Jul Mdama, leader of the storm covenant and the Didacts hand. In the center of his destroyer's control room, he stared directly at the data projections of the forerunner shield world. At the corner of his display, he noticed a fleet of familiar ships drop out of slipspace around him and took up a low orbit over Requiem.
The raiding parties have returned with more supplies. If he had learned anything in his time as a shipmaster was the importance of logistics. Without the essentials like food, water, weapons, and etc an army's effectiveness would surely drop. He also knew that their reputation wasn't the best so he advised them to steal them from other planets. An order his Sangheili brethren found no honor in but one his Kig-Yar mercenaries indulged in.
However, none of these things were at the forefront of his thoughts. He slipped into his memories back when he was Lord of Bekan Keep in the rural state of 'Mdama. Where he lived with his wife, Raia 'Mdama, and his children, two of which are Dural and Asum.
He adjusted his posture, allowing himself to be more relaxed. Then he felt the familiar comfort of his old chair that rested upon his balcony. Jul envisioned the landscape that surrounded his keep. To the east, the hills were stepped with terraces of fruit vines, created to catch the sun. To the west, he saw fields in a neat mosaic of green and gray-blue on either side of the lake. It was set against the gold midmorning sky, looking exactly like every image he'd ever seen of this landscape.
He remembered the sound of sticks crashed against sticks as youngsters squabbling in the courtyard below rose on the breeze as Great-Uncle Naxan waded in to restore order, yelling about discipline and dignity. He chuckled to himself in delight. Then he reached his hand over only to find air.
Jul missed Raia's soft hand rubbed up against his owns. Her undying devotion to him, the same support that held him up in his time of need. but all that was gone now. The arbiter`s pets sought to that.
When they took her from this world his hatred for humanity increased by tenfold. In his eyes, they were no different from the Flood. Those hairless apes had an unquenchable appetite as they devoured everything in their path. Except they can plan and wait, and persuade his more gullible brothers with clever arguments, which makes them even more dangerous. Jul's blood began to boil, as though of the past flashed before his eyes.
"We could've won," he whispered to himself.
Had the Great Schism no happened the covenant would've clammed victory over the humans. A fraction of their forces was almost enough to bring the Earth to its knees. The storm shipmaster was lost within himself, utterly absorbed in his own fantasy world until a distant voice jerked Jul back to reality.
"Shipmaster 'Mdama! The raiding parties have returned. They bring supplies and news of a human ship!"
Once he heard the name of his enemy he jumped out of his seat.
"Human? Did it follow them?"
"No, shipmaster," he answered. "Different approach vector."
Without a single command, a few ships broke off from the fleet and approached the human vessel. No doubt it was Gek 'Lhars doing. As Mdama's second in command, he executed Jul's will without a single word. It was borderline telepathic, which scared the supreme leader from time to time. Upon closer inspection, the ship identified the vessel as the ruined aft section of a UNSC ship dubbed the Forward Unto Dawn.
"Prepare boarding parties! Keep it away from Requiem!" Jul announced.
"Will do shipmaster,"
Lights began to strobe, the decks transmitted a low-frequency vibration, as battle-ready Covenant warriors a mix of Elites, Jackals, and Grunts rushed to board their assigned transports. Their orders were clear, keep it away from requiem by any means necessary.
Inside the Dawn, mechanical parts drift aimlessly in zero gravity. An automated message loops through the speakers.
"Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is UNSC FFG-201 Forward Unto Dawn, requesting immediate evac. Survivors aboard. Prioritization code: Victor Zero Five dash, Three dash, Sierra Zero One One Seven."
Suddenly, an orange energy pulse travels through the ship, scrambling some of the still-active view screens. Inside the cryo chamber, a sphere of blue light hovers above a holographic projector. The sphere disappears in a flash of blue as the ship shakes again, A foot-high hologram faded into view above a small holopad.
Cortana gasped and surveyed the room like a frightened child. She quickly stands up and proceeds to activate a holographic terminal, quickly browsing through a status report. Cortana switches to a diagram of the ship. Several red rings circle the schematic, designating hull breaches.
Muffled explosions can be heard, signaling multiple decompression events. Which only meant one thing the ship was being boarded. Increasingly disturbed, Cortana summoned the cryo chamber's control interface. A schematic of a modified Mark VI MJOLNIR armor is displayed, alongside life signs and cryo-tube diagrams.
A single prompt appears on-screen.
REACTIVATE
Cortana hesitated for a moment but proceeds to access the prompt.
ACTIVE
The security lockout dropped away, and a countdown timer began marking time until the wake-up sequence would be completed. In that time several slow pulses to one another like a chain reaction. The neural pulses reach the heart. Then his heart began beating, the neural pulses race up the spine to the brain.
Cortana sighs then turn to observe cryo-tube 16.
"Wake up, Chief." Air is pumped into the tube's interior as part of the thawing process. "I need you."
The frost covering the tube's glass surface melts away, revealing John-117 underneath. She gazed at him in awe. Before was not just any Spartan, or the last Spartan but her Spartan. A man she was willing to risk anything for. In a brief millisecond, her bright blue avatar flashed a sinister red color.
He was floating in the never-never land somewhere between cryo and full consciousness when the dream began. It was a familiar dream, a pleasant dream, and one which had nothing to do with war. He was on Eridanus II, the colony world he'd been born on, long since destroyed by the Covenant. John was once again a little boy on the beach playing in the sand. He heard laughter all around as other children played. Above him, two Pelicans flew over the ocean. John peaked at them and smiled. As his sandcastle nears completion he heard a female voice called him by name.
"John!"
He looked behind him and saw a woman waving at him. She had large eyes, a straight nose, and full lips. John squinted his eyes, just before he could recognize the woman her form changed. In an eye blink, she turned semi translucent. Now he knew her name.
"Cortana," he called out
The dream started to fade, and light appeared in front of the Spartan's half-open eyes. Vapor vented, swirled, and began to dissipate. The Chief slowly awakens inside the cryo-tube, groaning. He slams his gauntlets into the glass surface in shock and confusion.
"Chief! Easy. You've been out for a while."
"Where are we?"
"We're still adrift on the Dawn," she answered.
It took the Spartan a moment to remember where he'd been prior to entering the cryotube. Piece by piece it all started to come back to him. Words like Arbiter, Truth, Gravemind, Miranda, Guilty spark Johnson, and Halo had meaning to them. A mix of emotions washed over him.
"Why did you wake me?" he demanded. The moment those words left his mouth he pounded why he would ask an obvious question. John was aware of his purpose and accepted it. He was a weapon of war, and weapons were only drawn when a war needed to be fought.
"Hang on. Bringing your systems online now."
John's HUD appears on his visor. He couldn't put his finger on it put his current display looked a tad bit different. Nothing to off-kilter but slightly noticeable to his Spartan mind.
"I rewrote your suit's firmware while you were out."
"You've been busy."
"Activating the ship's gravity generators."
The gravity system comes online. The drifting crates and debris in the room drop onto the floor.
Partial system restoration. Initializing system diagnostics…
"Chief, look up. You need to pull the manual release."
John tilted his head up and saw the contraption. He effortlessly
pulled the cryotubes manual release lever. 117 marched out as the tube opens, walking over to the holo tank that Cortana is occupied.
He flexed his stiff limbs until he heard a few audible pops. It felt good to move around, and the Master Chief quietly flexed his fingers. His skin itched and stung, a side effect of the cryo gases, but he quickly banished the pain from his awareness. He had long ago learned how to disassociate himself from physical discomfort. Then a sense of Deja Vu rushed through his head.
Like the good doctor, Cortana admired her own work. While he slept she used minifacturing and diagnostic systems to repair and alter John's armor. This armor closely resembles an earlier line of Mark IV armor but with noticeable improvements. Dispute the upgrades the suit still had the gash across his chest. The perfectionist in her wanted to fix it but another part of her left it there. She believed it gave him some character, making him appear more heroic.
"Seems like old times."
"Ready to get back to work?"
Cortana crosses her arms." I thought you'd never ask."