Author's Note: Really, really sorry about the massive delay on this one! This is, without a doubt, the longest chapter I've ever written. IRL had me really tied up when writing it, and brainstorming all the concepts was harder than I had anticipated. But the universe is (mostly) well established in my head now, so…enjoy ^_^
Chapter Five: Knightmares
-February 3rd, 2525 a.t.b,
-UFNSC HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6, Sydney, Australia, Earth-
Facility Bravo-6 was a major base for the UFNSC, originally built in Australia due to its neutrality in the ancient war between the UFN and Britannia, it served as the perfect location to conduct secure UFNSC Security Council meetings with the highest-ranking members of the UFN and the UFNSC. Currently attending the meeting was the UFN Chairwoman Kayoko Sumeragi, the descendant of the famous Kaguya Sumeragi (of whom Kayoko was almost a splitting image of.) She managed to achieve her position through a combination of her ancestry and shrewd political insights, but her power was severely limited ever since the UFNSC had instated a military government due to the Insurrection.
The meeting was mainly consistent of military personnel, hence why she was the only UFN official present in the meeting. It was a cruel reality that the UFN itself held no real power anymore, but Kayoko was fine with that for now, "It was necessary for the continued unity of the human race that the UFNSC handled the most important matters regarding the colonies, we're in a time of crisis right now…" She thought with sadness, knowing that no matter how much she justified it; her ancestor would never have approved of how she handed over liberty for the sake of security
"But I didn't do so alone…" Kaguya thought, looking over to the masked figure next to her with some degree of vindication, "We all did it together; we're all to blame."
Said masked enigma shifted in his seat, his palms folded in front of his face as he was locked in a stare with an Admiral of the UNFSC Navy, Lord Terrance Hood (if looking into an obsidian faceplate could be considered a stare). At his side was Rear Admiral Margaret Parangosky, the Director of the Office of Naval Intelligence and one of the most dangerous people in the UFNSC. They were currently issuing a test to Zero to ensure that he was the exact same Zero as before, a test issued at random intervals which ranged from five years to ten years that had been issued to Zero after his age had long surpassed human biological limits centuries ago.
"Zero, six years ago in this very building I came up to you and whispered something in your ear." Hood spoke, his throat bulging slightly as he swallowed, "What was it? Do you remember?"
Zero stayed silent, tapping his fingers on the table as he looked around at the military personnel awaiting his response. Kayoko's eyes widened in fright as she realized that Zero may have actually forgotten it, and prepared to salvage the situation, "Lord Hood, I don't think that such a question-"
"You asked me what color my hair was under this mask." Zero suddenly spoke, interrupting Kayoko to her surprise
"And what did you reply, Zero?" Hood asked immediately, still not entirely convinced of Zero's legitimacy
"I didn't reply." Zero stated, "It was a silly question."
The Admiral grinned slightly as he let a small laugh escape his lips, "Yes, yes it was." He admitted with a smile, "Honestly I was actually expecting an answer like white, or grey, or…"
"Or brown."
All those are the table immediately turned to the Director of ONI, their eyes widening in confusion at Margaret's seemingly disinterested statement as she looked downwards at her nails. Kayoko looked towards Zero, and for a moment she could have sworn that she saw the masked man gripping his gloved fist tightly before letting go. Parangosky smiled for a single instant, as if she saw it too, before looking up, "It looks like you're clear, Zero. Blood tests match up too." She spoke, before placing her hands on the table, "Now, if we're quite ready to begin the meeting, I'd suggest that we put this behind us and continue."
"Erm, yes." Admiral Hood spoke, before tapping on an icon on the table that brought up a holographic screen, "We've several topics to discuss today. Firstly, what to do about the CMA's rapidly depleting force projection abilities. Secondly, we have to discuss the viability of our current generation Knightmare Frames against the Insurrectionists. Thirdly, we need to talk about a transmission from FLEETCOM at Reach about reinforcing the Harvest Defense Fleet in the face of an…unknown threat."
Both Parangosky and Zero leaned forward, thinking the same thing, but Parangosky got it out first, "Let's leave the other two topics for later, we need to discuss that third topic right now."
Hood nodded, pressing on the third item on the list as it brought up a full report from an ONI official named 'Jilan al-Cyngi' who was dispatched to Harvest for an investigation into pirate attacks in the area. The report included detailed evidence that the pirates were not human in nature, and were in fact extraterrestrial life forms that attacked human ships and scavenged them for their cargo. She maintained that while the aliens had more advanced technology than the UFNSC, it was possible for the Home Defense Fleet to hold them off a limited time only; as should alien reinforcements arrive to back them up, the already small Home Defense Fleet would be unable to protect Harvest.
The entire room sat in silence as they read the report, with several of them shaking in their seats as they read it with horror. Actual living aliens were assaulted a UFNSC world, it was a situation that none could have ever imagined happening in their lifetimes; yet it was happening now.
"When…when is this dated?" Kayoko asked with fear, already knowing that the message was horribly out-of-date due to the difficulties in communicating such long distances via Slipspace
"Around last month; it was sent from an ONI Sloop named Walk of Shame that recently arrived at Reach." Parangosky replied gravely, "It's completely possible that the situation has grown considerably larger in that time scale."
"Has Reach dispatched a battle group yet to assist them?" Zero asked, the nervous twitch of his fingers betraying his concern
Lord Hood shook his head, "No, they're going to send a CMA scout ship to check out of its legitimate before allocating forces to Harvest's defense. They believe that the Harvest Home Defense Fleet can fend off any supposed assaults until they have time to confirm the threat."
"We cannot afford to lose Harvest!" A military official immediately replied, banging his fist on the table, "That colony provides foodstuffs for several other Outer Colony worlds; they'd go hungry within a year if we lost Harvest!"
"The Home Defense Fleet consists of twelve ships: two frigates and several corvettes." Another official replied, standing up suddenly, "If there are actually alien raiders attacking them, then surely they can defend themselves from simple pirates."
"Their fleet was stationed there to defend against Insurrectionist attacks and attempts to disrupt their shipping, not to defend against attacks by extra-terrestrial life forms." Parangosky stated, staring daggers at the official, "Should the alien forces be larger or more powerful than anticipated, then every single man and woman on Harvest will die before we even get there."
The man gulped, taking the full brunt of Parangosky's deathly stare. It was common knowledge that those on Parangosky's 'shit-list' didn't tend to advance very far in their careers, nor did they tend to live long lives, and so the official shut his mouth and sat back in his chair. Hood looked towards the ONI Director, sighing as he spoke, "Well, Miss Parangosky, we're going to need to do something about this mess…how's ONI's 'pet project' coming along?"
Parangosky regarded the question for a moment as the other officials went dead silent: ONI's secret project was a subject that hadn't been touched for months, owing to its sensitivity and…inhumanity. None of the officials questioned its necessity, but several of them had been vocal about its extremity before they had finally given up debating about it. "The SPARTAN-II project is coming along well, according to my reports from Doctor Halsey." Parangosky finally replied, "They've been passing every physical and mental test given to them with flying colors, and they're set to begin the augmentation procedures next month."
The officials murmured to themselves, some content with the results while others were grumbling at its sheer cost. But none of them could deny that the project was needed to better fight against the Insurrectionists, foes that had been plaguing the UFNSC for years. The meeting went onwards, with the officials discussing various subjects including the ramifications of encountering an alien race at this stage of the UFNSC's expansion, but the gathered officials had no outwards qualms to the aforementioned project itself.
If they had only known about where the candidates for the SPARTAN-II program had been sourced from, however, they would have been much more adamant in their protests.
-Office of Naval Intelligence Medical Facility, in Orbit Around Planet Reach-
Dr. Catherine Elizabeth Halsey looked over the data before her, sighing once more as statistics and risk percentages were projected in a holographic screen in front of her. None of them offered even the slightest bit of relief, for each and every statistic projected the casualty rating that her Spartans would have to suffer: A death or a crippling of the body that she would force the Spartans to go through, wasting all the time and resources spent turning them into the greatest soldiers that humanity had ever known.
There was no way to avoid it, no way for the Spartans who were incompatible with the genetic modifications to avoid their fate and 'accomplish the mission' as they had been trained to do. They would either be successfully augmented, and became super soldiers without compare; or their bodies would reject the augmentations, and they would lose their chance to become Spartans forever. It was frustrating to be able to do so little, as no matter how she tweaked the augmentation procedures; the risks were only marginally minimized.
She thought back to the early days of the project, when she had originally scouted her seventy-five SPARTAN-II candidates alongside Jacob Keyes. It had been an arduous task: Going around the UFNSC, interviewing hundreds of children, abducting the ones who had promise, and replacing them with flash clones that died within a few years only to subject the chosen ones to an arduous program of physical training, military indoctrination, education, and advanced tactics. She'd seen the training footage; Mendez and Déjà had taken them to breaking point and beyond in their lessons. If this had been any other group of children, then not only would they have refused to go on; they probably would have died by now.
Dr. Halsey felt a pang of guilt hit her once more, as she looked at the test results for the muscular enhancement injections; 5% of all test subjects encountered a fatal cardiac volume increase and died, and this was supposed to be among the safest augmentations. She was doing all she could up her to prepare the facility to augment the Spartans while minimizing the risk, but there was nothing more she could do even with Déjà's help. She had done so much to the Spartans, stolen their lives and indoctrinated them to spend the rest of them fighting for the UFNSC against insurrectionists, and now she was going to-
"Dr. Halsey." Spoke a computerized voice from behind her, interrupting Halsey's thoughts and startling her
"Yes, Déjà?" Halsey replied with irritation, closing the holographs with a swish of her hand, "What is it?"
"We've received a forwarded report from HIGHCOM regarding an incident at Harvest, a pirate raid on their shipping routes which they've requested aid to deal with." Déjà said, unaware of Halsey's irritation due to her nature as a 'Dumb' A.I
"And why is this any of my concern, Déjà?" Halsey asked, raising an eyebrow with confusion
"Well, Doctor, it appears as though the raiders aren't of human origin." Déjà replied immediately, "A report by an ONI official states that they're actually several alien species, with advanced technology at their disposal that surpasses our technological understanding. HIGHCOM believed that you would want to 'take a look at this'."
Halsey's eyes widened as she looked over the report with disbelief; it was very well detailed, as expected from an ONI official, with several pictures and video clips displaying three distinct alien species. One was a thin bird-like alien with spikes running along its back, another was a small diminutive alien with reptilian-like features, while another was a blurry image of a pink organic ball of gas with writhing tentacles and a worm-like head.
"Three different supposedly sentient alien species in one ship?" Halsey spoke incredulously, "What does this mean? That they're a rabble of alien species joined with simple piracy in mind, or that they're part of some greater coalition of alien species working as privateers?"
"Unknown, Dr. Halsey. We haven't received any additional intelligence from Harvest yet." Déjà replied immediately, as if Halsey had expected her to answer, "But a scout ship has already been sent to confirm the threat, and it should arrive by April to the colo-"
The 'Dumb' A.I was interrupted by three knocks on the laboratory's door, to which Halsey immediately asked, "Who is it?"
"It's me, Dr. Halsey." Replied a bass voice from outside the door, easily recognizable to the doctor
"Ah, John." Halsey stated, closing the holographic screens with a wave of her hand, "Please, come in."
The door opened to reveal a tall, freckled, muscular teenager with short-brown hair and a firm mouth. Halsey couldn't see his blue eyes due to the latched-on sunglasses he was wearing, a necessary preparation for the ocular augmentation procedures, but if she could she would see the concern hidden within them.
"To what do I owe the visit, John-117?" Halsey asked, using the Spartan's code name "Is anybody already having issues with the procedures?"
The Spartan shook his head, "No, Dr. Halsey. We're all properly following your guidelines." He replied, short and to the point, "What I came here to discuss is this: Are these…augmentations really all that necessary?"
"Oh?" Halsey asked, "You don't all feel as though this is worth your time?"
John hesitated, clearing his throat, before speaking, "The others feel as though this is wasting valuable training time, and I'm inclined to agree with them; we haven't fully completed our lessons nor have we finished our combat training according to the Chief."
Halsey tapped his fingers against the console, "Is your training time really that valuable to you all?" She asked
John immediately nodded, "A month and a half to two months of preparation, surgery, and recovery is a lot of time. If these augmentations are only going to be minor improvements to our bodily functions, then we feel as though that time would be better spent training and learning."
Halsey considered John's words, before crossing her arms and looking at him straight in the eye, "Then let me assure you, Spartan, that these augmentations will not simply be minor improvements." She spoke, her tone sounding like she was insulted, "The augmentations will make you faster, stronger, smarter, and more perceptive than ever before. They will make you something more, something beyond even what you've become today…"
Dr. Halsey's eyes seemed to light up, her tone shifting as she got closer to John and continued speaking, "Something beyond human."
John shifted uncomfortably, but did not turn his gaze as he replied, "Beyond…human?" He asked, his tone unbelieving yet curious
"Yes, John; no human will ever be able to match what the Spartans are going to be capable of, what you are going to be capable of." Halsey replied, "Of this, you can be assured of: No matter the price you're all going to have to pay, it will all be worth it in the end."
Those words were as much for John as they were for Catherine herself. John, however, simply nodded in response; getting up and saluting the professor before speaking, "Sorry for the intrusion, professor. I'll be taking my leave, then."
"You are dismissed, Spartan." Dr. Halsey spoke, turning to her console without returning John's salute, "Now please, rest; I need you all in your prime conditions to minimize the augmentation risks. Please try to explain to your fellow Spartans about the necessity of these procedures, 117."
The Spartan nodded, "I will, Dr. Halsey. Thank you for your time." He spoke, before turning and leaving out the door; leaving the doctor to her devices
Dr. Halsey brought up the holograms screens once more, staring at the images of the aliens before putting them to the side and bringing up the screens that displayed the calculated mortality/crippling rate of the Spartans from the augmentations. Looking at the unacceptably high death rate brought a sudden pang of guilt to her heart, but looking at the pictures of the aliens somewhat relieved said pain; as she began mentally self-justifying herself once more.
A sudden thought entered her mind, interrupting her justification in her own voice, "It will all be worth it end, huh? How very convenient, Catherine."
The doctor slammed her fist against the console in a sudden rage, startling Déjà who had been watching the entire tirade. She had gone too far to regret her actions now; thrown away too much of her own humanity to let a sudden wind of morality blow her off course. There was no longer any other path now for both her and her Spartans, no other direction they could go but forwards.
Halsey would have her Spartans, and humanity would have their saviors: No matter the risk, no matter the price.
-Valhalla Fields, Outer Colony of Harvest-
A dark-skinned man in a short-sleeved military uniform looked over a small cliff, watching the horizon with digital binoculars in one hand while smoking a cigar with the other. On said horizon was an extremely large, bulbous mass of metal that had only just crashed onto the ground a few minutes ago; churning up a fissure of dirt in its wake. The man noted with surprise that while the ship had just sustained multiple missiles strikes, a blow to its face with some sort of plasma weapon, and a crash landing; it looked no worse for wear, with the exception of a large hole in its frontal end surrounded by what looked like molten slag.
"Staff Sergeant, do you read me?" A voice over the radio spoke into Johnson's ears, "What's the status of the alien ship?"
The man put down his binoculars with a puff of his cigar, tapping his earpiece before speaking, "This is Staff Sergeant Avery J. Johnson, and what the hell are you doing calling me boy? What part of 'radio silence' don't you understand?"
"S-sorry, Staff Sergeant!" The voice replied with panic, "You've just been gone for a while, so we-"
"Radio. Silence. They're two words, Private, and they ain't that hard to understand!" Sergeant Johnson barked, "Maintain it, until I get back to give your ass the whooping it deserves."
A moment passed in which Johnson fervently hoped that Jenkins had finally understood.
"U-understood, sir!"
His hopes were, unfortunately, dashed.
The Staff Sergeant sighed, packing up his equipment before getting onto his Mongoose and riding back to the nearby camp. The newly formed Harvest Militiamen were a good, disciplined lot of boys; and he was proud to be their instructor. "But damn it all if they aren't as green as Harvest's big-ass fields." He thought with annoyance
Soon, the Staff Sergeant came up the makeshift camp; quickly established as soon as it was reported that Commander Lamperouge had somehow miraculously, as Avery preferred to put it, "Pulled a victory out of his ass." The camp was filled with men and equipment; weapons, ammo, Mongooses, Warthogs, and even a few Knightpolice frames borrowed from the Utgard Police Department; pilots included. He parked his Mongoose outside the large command tent, and strolled on inside; ignoring the fearful look on Private Jenkins' face as he passed by him. He'd deal with the farm boy later.
Staff Sergeant Nolan Byrne looked him in the eyes as he entered the tent, having been coordinating an assault on the alien vessel with the one-armed Captain Ponder. All three men were veterans in combat against the Insurrectionists, and their skills would be greatly needed in the battle to come. Ponder was the first to speak, "Any news on the ship, Sergeant? Troop movements, damaged sections, anything?" He asked, "We're flying blind here."
"Well," Johnson spoke, before bringing out a Sweet William cigar from his seemingly inexhaustible supply and lighting it, "Aside from the big-ass hole in its head and the blown up engines, it's looking fine from the outside. I didn't see any alien buggers crawling out of the thing, so I'm assuming that they're just holdin' up inside."
Captain Ponder pondered the new information for a moment, before turning to Byrne, "Staff Sergeant, how do you think we should approach this? An insertion though the hole?"
Nolan shook his head, "No, we don't know anything about how that ship looks like from the inside; we could be walking into a deathtrap and not even know it. It's way too dangerous for our boys."
"Then if we can't play on their field," Sergeant Johnson suddenly spoke, "We should bring 'em to ours; lure the aliens out of their ship to fight us outside."
"We can't allow them time to recuperate or attempt to repair their ship before Commander Lamperouge's forces get here, so that idea works for me." Byrne spoke, "If we just hassle 'em for a bit, they should bite."
Ponder stroked his chin with his one hand, "We should take every precaution in dealing with the aliens, though; we don't know what they're capable of with that kind of advanced technology. If we're going to fight, it has to be on our terms; not theirs."
"Let's leave the complicated details for later, Captain." Sergeant Johnson replied, taking a puff of his cigar, "Right now, our men need a good ol' dose of rallying."
"Then please," Captain Ponder replied immediately, turning towards the two burlesque military men, "do the honors; Staff Sergeants. I've never been especially good at speeches; I'm no Zero."
Sergeant Johnson nodded in affirmation, as did Sergeant Byrne, before the three men exited their tents; the soldiers under their command quickly assembling before them, weapons at the ready. Avery looked up and down each and every one of the militiamen, inwardly relieved that they all seemed to be mentally prepared for what was soon to come. He'd only had a few weeks to train them, but hopefully that would be enough.
"Listen up, boys! Because we're only gonna say this once! Today, we had a few uninvited guests call us names, barge into your home, and blow up our ships; and I can guarantee you all that they were laughing their asses off while doing it!" Sergeant Byrne shouted, his powerful bass tones reverberating through the men
"But they ain't laughing now, no sir! Because our brave and beautiful Commander Leon Lamperouge took 'em down with a torpedo punch to the face and a missile slap on their ass, and boy are they hurting now!" Sergeant Johnson spoke, waving his cigar as he spoke, "If those alien bastards think they can just come in in, beat the crap out of us, and call it a day; then we'll just have to teach 'em just how tenacious humanity can be! Am I right, men?!"
A loud and simultaneous "Yes. sir!" by the gathered men was their reply to Johnson, as they stamped their feet loudly. Johnson let a small smile come across his face, before he continued speaking, "Then what are you waiting for, men? Christmas? We Britannians don't celebrate that, and Saint Darwin's Day is a long way off! We're gonna strike our enemy hard and fast; we'll lure 'em out of their shell and hit 'em where it really hurts!"
"You heard the man, troopers! We can't let Lamperouge steal all the glory; we're gonna show those Navy punks just what we ground soldiers can do!" Byrne bellowed, slamming his fist against his palm, "Remember your training, don't freak out when the aliens come, and don't even think about running; because we've got a lot more at stake here than just your lives!"
Sergeant Johnson took up his battle rifle, reloading the coilgun rounds of the new prototype weapon as he turned to the militiamen, "So follow me, boys! We ain't gonna let 'em have Harvest, but what we will let 'em have is a belly full of lead, and a pool of their own blood to drown in! Can I get an 'oorah' troopers?!"
An almost deafening 'oorah!' was the millitiamen's response, with even the police pilots joining in with the cry as they raised their frames' machine pistols high. Johnson, Byrne, and Ponder turned; entering a nearby Warthog before Byrne looked towards the men, his hands on the vehicle's mounted LAAG gun, "Then let's move out, boys! We've only got around half an hour before the Navy forces get here, so let's try to finish it up before they arrive!"
Captain Ponder looked towards the two Sergeants from his seat at the side of the Warthog, and grinned with satisfaction; there was really nothing like a good speech to get men motivated, and Sergeants Johnson and Byrne were damn good talkers. He turned to Johnson, a smile on his face, before his expression turned serious, "Sergeants, we're about to face an enemy that took down nearly our entire fleet while barely sustaining any damage of their own. Whatever the tech for their ground troops is; be prepared to fight a battle unlike anything we've ever fought before."
"Don't have to tell us twice, Captain." Johnson replied, his hands gripping the wheel as he turned the vehicle on with a loud grumble of the engine
"We're as ready as we'll damn well ever be."
-Later, Rapid Conversion-
A loud thud reverberated against the chambers, as Jiralhanae clashed against Jiralhanae; the silver-haired Tartarus was being bashed into the wall by his uncle Maccabeus. The pack leader's loud growls of anger surprised his nephew, but the younger Brute did not back down: growling back equally as loud.
"You were in charge of the weapon systems, Tartarus!" Maccabeus bellowed, "How in the name of the Great Journey could you let the torpedo's guidance system lead it right back to us?!"
"Uncle, I was distracted!" Tartarus growled, "You had me managing both the Energy Projector and the Plasma Torpedoes, the aliens tricked us!"
"No, Tartarus; the aliens tricked you!" Maccabeus uttered, slamming his nephew harder against the wall, "Were it not for your incompetence, we would not have had to risk any of our lives in this meaningless fight!"
"Risk our lives? Uncle, your words are that of a cowardly Unngoy!" Tartarus shouted, pushing back against his uncle, "Not a single one of us would hesitate to fight and send each and every one of those worms to an early grave, to fight our enemy from within these protective shells was an honorless task to begin with!"
Maccabeus roared, throwing Tartarus down to the ground as he spat on his nephew's body, "And so you decided to destroy it? To make choices that only I, as the Pack Leader, have the right to decide for our clan?" He asked, as he shook his head in frustration, "I raised you better than that, Tartarus…."
Tartarus slowly got up from the floor, letting out a low growl, "Uncle, we have more important matters to deal with now.' He spoke, staring directly at the other Jiralhanae, "The aliens must be amassing for an attack as we speak, to take advantage of our weakened state. If we do not retaliate and set up our defenses, then we will surely-"
A Jiralhanae came rushing into the room, panting for breath as Tartarus turned towards him, "Ritul? What are you-?"
"The aliens are amassing outside the ship, they have strange vehicles and many men!" The Jiralhanae referred to as Ritul spoke. "We have, at most, three minutes before they reach us!"
Tartarus barked with anger, turning to his uncle as his eyes widened, "You see, Uncle! The aliens are making a mockery us of us, they will descend upon us a massacre us as we sit here and bicker!"
"Tartarus, silence." Maccabeus spoke with anger, "You have said and done enough today, now it is time we that we fight and reclaim our pride as Jiralhanae!"
"And what will you do, uncle?" Tartarus asked with malice, as he unholstered the spike rifle at his side, "Sit back here on your commander's chair and watch us fight?"
Maccabeus did not reply, merely walking to his large chair and picking up a massive hammer placed next to it. It was a large stone cudgel, outfitted with strange and ancient technology from ancient days. The venerable and large Jiralhanae hefted the hammer without much issue, holding it up as he stared his nephew down. There was no need for words between them, for Jiralhanae valued action far above what they valued words, and Maccabeus' action had answered Tartarus' question better than any words would have. Every single Jiralhanae, Unngoy, and Yanme'e would be fighting; including Maccabeus as their Chieftain and leader.
The true wrath of the Covenant was about to be brought upon humanity.
-Three minutes later, outside the wreckage of the Rapid Conversion-
Knightpolice Officer Jameson Abramson was a veteran police officer, one of the colonists of Harvests who had put down his share of riots over the years. His skill with the a standard, if a bit outdated, Sheffield Knightmare Frame was above average; he could make use of the frame's specialties better than most devicers.
This, however, was most certainly not what he and his fellow officers had trained for.
"Officer Abramson, I know this isn't the best time to mention this; but…" One of his officers spoke over the comms, "I'm not sure if I can…actually use this thing…"
He was, of course, referring to the two Mk 22 Viper Coilgun Machine Pistols oversized to fit within a Knightmare Frame's hands. The Viper was an old model; firing copper alloy bolts at a much lower velocity and fire rate than modern models. It did its damage…to semi-armored vehicles, but the damage potential of the pistols wasn't what the officer was worried about: None of Abramson's officers had ever fired them at living targets.
Abramson sighed, "Well, officer, there isn't much I can tell you but to suck it up, aim, and fire; because the enemy sure as shit isn't going to worry about that." He spoke, "These things, these aliens; they're not going to wait for you to debate the morality, pray for forgiveness, and find the resolve to fire."
"You've gotta make the decision to throw away the part of you; and you've gotta make the resolution to kill, or be killed." Abramson spoke, his voice heavy and resigned, "Got that, rookie?"
Only silence followed, as the officers took Abramson's words to heart and mind. The Knightpolice officers moved forward, moving at a slow and steady pace alongside the Harvest militia. The flowing wheat around them waved and waned with the wind like a sea of gold, lulling some of the militia into a sense of calm; like the eye of a storm.
Suddenly, a quick bolt of green broke and burnt through the gold; striking a militiaman in the chest and sending him gurgling to the floor as the bolt melted through his armor and chest. Without warning, shadows began flying over the militiamen; sending even more bolts towards them as they scrambled for cover. Abramson immediately activated his Factospheres, observing the fast creatures as they flew over the soldiers. They were small, nimble insects, and with green…sometimes yellow exoskeletons. Their wings beat faster than the Factospheres could track, as they swarmed around the militiamen and fired their plasma weapons.
A voice came over Abramson's comms, "Open fire, men; shoot these damn bugs down!" accompanied by the rattling of a Warthog's chaingun and the dying screeches of the creatures as they were shot down. Not one to be outdone, Abrahmson began firing his machine pistols at the creatures; his Sheffield's armor taking the plasma bolts as his officers finally took the cue and began firing upon the creatures.
"Contacts! Coming in from the north through the fields!" One of the militiamen shouted
Smaller, even more diminutive creatures began poking out from further in, firing at the militiamen with their small plasma pistols and forcing them to find cover. They were easier to kill, as the militiamen soon found out, but their tenacity and numbers were quickly overwhelming the troopers. Abramson sped forward, crushing several of the smaller aliens with his Knightmare's landspinners as he fired at the insectoid aliens with his pistols. He and the other officers cleared the way, driving a wedge through the aliens alongside the Warthog as they fought back against the aliens.
Suddenly, a loud roar sounded out and Abramson turned; only to be knocked to the ground as a explosion impacted against his frame's chest, the tough armor just barely stopping the explosion as the Knightpolice officer began gathering his breath. All around him, his fellow officers were crying out with confusion:
"What the hell are those things? They look like freakin' harvesters with...cannons?"
"Shit, one of those cannons blew out my arm! The screen's filled with freaking' sta-!"
"I can't get a good hit on 'em, they're too fast! The Factospheres aren't-!"
Officer Abramson's Sheffield slowly raised from the floor, as Abramson looked around and watched with horror aswhat looked like the bastard offspring of a combine, a motorcycle, and a tank plowed through the militia and his officers. One of the machines actually rammed through a Sheffield's legs, bringing the frame to the ground before another machine blew its head off with its cannons; causing it to eject it's pilot. He fired at the combine death machines with one of his pistols, having lost the other in the field when he was knocked down, but only succeeded in having the bullets that did hit ricochet off of their curvaceous and tough armor.
He gritted his teeth in annoyance, speeding through the field on his landspinners as he fired on the vehicles; never letting them get a clean shot on him with the guns mounted at their sides (which seemed to fire cannon-caliber explosive bolts). More aliens were rushing in now; large, hairy aliens the size of gorillas. The engagement was rapidly turning south, as the newer arrivals unleashed hails of heated spikes at the humans from their bulky rifles.
Despite that, Sergeant Johnson, Sergeant Byrne, and Captain Ponder fought on; Johnson ramming the large aliens onto the Warthog's tusks, Byrne cutting the insects down with the chaingun, and Ponder wounding the smaller ground aliens with his assault rifle. They rallied the militiamen, with cries of, "Make a stand, men; we have to hold this position!" and "We didn't put you boys through hell for nothing! Keep calm, and keep firing!"
Abramson smiled as he stomped on one of the larger aliens; this might be their last stand, but they wouldn't give a single inch to the enemy even at the cost of their lives. As every inch was an inch of their hardened resolve to protect Harvest, to protect their families and loved ones: to protect humanity.
"We are coming out of this alive, men!" Abramson shouted, slamming his Frame's Anti-Knightmare combat knife into a passing enemy machine; the knife jamming into the revolving blades and causing the machine to explode in a burst of orange alongside its passenger, "Keep moving and fire at their broadsides; there ain't no way we're getting beaten by a bunch of DIY combine tanks!"
A loud cheer erupted amongst the Knightpolice officers and the militiamen as they fought back against the aliens; the bursts of assault rifles clattering alongside Knightmare machine pistols and the Warthog chaingun. They fought bravely, with one militiaman slamming into a larger alien and attempting to slam his knife into the hairy creature's chest. But the alien's strange energy field held, the knife simply sliding off of it as the creature retaliated by slashing the soldier's neck open with his claws and filling his chest with spikes from its rifle.
The brutish aliens were difficult to kill, ferocious in battle, and showed no apprehension whatsoever in facing the human forces. Abramson even saw one of the creatures, armored in some kind of golden power armor, slam a human into a mess of gore and bones with a large stone hammer; roaring and charging as his energy shielded armor shrugged off the assault rifle fire of the frenzied militiamen like they were simply droplets of rain.
As the alien death combines regrouped, getting ready for another charge against the Knightpolice Frame, Officer Abramson found himself making his peace; getting ready for what was sure to come as he reloaded his machine pistol, spun his landspinnders, and hoped that he could at least take out a few more of them before his frame was turned to scrap metal. He and his fellow officers made their stand as was the general mood amongst the militiamen; knowing that they were all going to fall here, but also knowing that they would take down as many aliens as they could in the process.
"Sir, it's been an honor working with you." The officer from before spoke over the comms, aiming his machine pistol at the machines as his voice shook with fear, "I don't think…I coulda asked for a more glorious dea-"
"Spare me the drama, Officer Lincoln; you have an ejection system." Abramson spoke with a laugh, "I'm sorry for being a bit of a buzzkill; but you probably aren't gonna be going out in a blaze of glory."
The officer was, once again, turned speechless; he tried to speak something in response, but settled with a resigned sigh before shutting off the comms. Abramson, really, wasn't lying: Most of the Knightpolice were probably going to make it out fine; ejection systems had vastly improved over the years. As he looked down at the dimmed light on his 'ejection' button, however, knowing that his frame was the oldest and that maintenance hadn't been able to service his frame's ejection system in years….
He realized that, in all likelihood, he was the only Knightpolice devicer about to die.
The combines charged toward them, blasting their cannons as they chopped through the fields of gold with their grey hides. The Knightpolice Officers fired their machine pistols as they charged right back, roaring out battle cries as the cannons cut them down one by one. Abramson's machine pistol fired, the large coilgun quickly blasting out copper-plated shells:
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Click!
Officer Abramson quickly holstered his machine pistol aside as the gun ran empty, taking out his large knife as he charged the enemy combines. One of the explosive bolts impacted against his frame's knee joint, forcing him to one knee. He could hear the brutish howls of the enemy as they closed in on him and his officers, opening fire with their cannons as, one by one, the officers around him ejected from the Frames.
Each and every one of the death combines now concentrated on him, seemingly savoring the moment, before the other machines broke off and the officer found himself coming face to face with two of the combines; both of them gunning at full speeds as they prepared to ram him. Abramson had made his peace, bringing out his knife as he readied himself for what was soon to come. Panting, he proclaimed his final defiant cry over the loudspeaker, "Come at me, you damned apes! If I'm going down…if I'm dying here, I'm taking both of you with me, screaming, straight down to Hell!"
The roars of the two Jiralhanae and the single human warrior equalled each other out. Abramson brought out his knife and bent his frame down, preparing to sweep the knife across both of the vehicles and knowing that he would most certainly perish in the process.
"Goodbye, Meliss-"
Boom!
A thunder-like explosion of crimson blew Abramson's frame back, interrupting his lament as he stared incredulously at the scene before him. Both of the machines were enveloped in a massive crimson and black beam that melted their components before exploding them both in but a single second, scorching the earth and wheat around them and tearing the ground apart at the powerful beam thundered across the golden fields.
Even Abramson, a regular Knightpolice officer, could recognize the incredible power, the telltale destruction, and the unrivalled majesty of a Hadron Cannon.
"This is Phoenix Squadron of the UNSC Orbital Drop Shock Knights, all Harvest militia units are advised to pull back and minimize assistance."
"We've got this."
As Knightmare Frames began dashing through the skies, their emerald wings leaving sparkling trails across the air, Officer Abramson grinned before falling back on his chair and closing his eyes, relieving his survival from a true brush with death.
At least…he did so for a few seconds before he opened his eyes, reloaded his Viper, and began firing at the surprised aliens with the pistol: Grinning with triumph, and roaring with fury as he joined the reinforcement Knightmares in routing the enemy.
-Same time, above the Valhalla Fields-
"This is Horus; Targets eliminated, moving in for Rapid Assault and Bombardment."
"Garuda moving in to assist, Gladius Luminous system active."
"This is Phoenix Leader: All units are ordered to assist Horus and Garuda; encircle the enemy vehicles and eliminate them."
A Knightmare Frames dropped from the skies in front of the Choppers, its armor painted in a mixture of crimson and black with the emblem of a fiery bird of prey emblazoned upon its chest and the letters "HORUS" emblazoned upon it. The frame had on cyclopean eye that menacingly glowed red, and missile pods attached to its heavily armored body. On its right shoulder was a large, rectangular, dark crimson cannon being armed with the Frame's right hand at the alien vehicles.
Suddenly, the frame brought out another cannon from its back; which folded in place for its left arm to grab and aim it. The cannon was dark gold, crisscrossed with black draconic patterns. Even the Jiralhanae knew, staring at the Frame as it combined both cannons in front of it, that they were outmatched; and so attempted to divert their vehicles without even firing a single bullet.
It was a move made too late to avert their deaths, however.
"Firing Hadron-Baryon Fusion Cannon, low power Scatter Mode."
Energy gathered at the joined cannons, surging and charging up as the Jiralhanae were blinded by its intensity, before exploding into a hundred electrified beams of fiery orange and dark crimson. The shotgun-like rays of destructive energy ripped apart the entire area, utterly annihilating the Choppers and their occupants in a brilliant explosion.
An enemy vehicle had managed to swerve around the Horus, gunning at it full speed as it prepared to ram it. Before he could reach it, however, a shimmering green light filled his eyes as a beam of light descended from the heavens, rapidly approached him, and sliced him -and his vehicle- in twain before he could even register what was happening.
The Garuda took out its wrist-mounted shining green blade from the ground as it flew back up, flapping its energy wings once before rapidly taking to the air while spinning. The frame was black and with dark green patterns. It had the same body shape as the Horus, albeit with less armor, "You missed one, Cassandra-chan~" The pilot spoke mockingly, "Guess your little fusion shotgun isn't all its cracked up to be."
"Say another word, and I'll shoot you out of the sky with it Rao." Cassandra replied, almost immediately flying up to his height with her energy wings
"Ooh, scary~" The pilot replied, giggling slightly as his Knightmare rose up into the skies. Suddenly, the ruined ship's still-functioning anti-fighter defenses activated; sending blasts of particle beams towards the Garuda from afar which Rao barely managed to dodge with his nimble frame. He brought his frame closer to the ground, speeding through the scorched field as the lasers tracked him and got closer and closer to blasting him out of the air
'Ahh, taskete~" Rao spoke in a falsetto tone, seemingly uncaring of his possible demise…before a single beam glanced against his Blaze Luminous and depleted it by half. The Indian-Japanese devicer's eyes widened in shock, as his movements became even more frantic, "Erm, seriously though; I could use some help here…."
"Hō-ō, Griffin; go from around and take out the enemy point-defense guns." A voice over the comms spoke, "With this much personnel out, and with the ship in such a damaged state, it is unlikely that they are in full working condition."
"Commander Lamperouge, I would appreciate it if you didn't circumvent my command…" Another voice spoke, in a somewhat irritated tone
"Your concern is duly noted, Phoenix Leader;" The voice replied, in a calm and commanding tone, "but I don't especially care much for it."
A blazing golden and black Knightmare suddenly rose from the ground from behind the ship. Its energy wings were bright red, tipped with green along their edges. It's golden, traditional faceplate and intricate gold and black body pattern similar to that of a Japanese samurai's spoke of its origins; as did the naginata spear that it carried. The frame immediately attracted the attention of the particle beam guns, which quickly swiveled and began firing at the Knightmare; but the frame was too quick, grappling onto a gun with three talon-like Slash Harkens embedded in its fingertips and swiveling around using it as a fulcrum.
"Hō-ō, activating RVS Naginata." The pilot spoke in a cold and mechanical tone, as the Knightmare brought up the naginata with its free hand. The blade of the polearm glowed bright red as it vibrated, leaving crimson trails in the air as the Knightmare sped forward, "RW Output is at 80%."
Much to the surprise of the Jiralhanae aboard, the blade sliced right into one of the armored cannons; cutting a large red gash across its side before the Hō-ō dashed away with a blast of crimson energy from the naginata. The cannon was still operational, however, and the Jiralhanae attempted to fire it at the fleeing Knightmare. The status indicator of the weapon blinked red before they could so much as press the icon, and looking at the video of the ship's surface through the other guns; one could immediately tell why.
The cannon glowed bright red, shimmering with Radiant Wave energies as its armor began bubbling and twisting. The weapon then exploded from the chain reaction in a violent explosion of crimson, white, and purple. The Radiant Vibration Sword of the Hō-ō sliced into yet another cannon, slicing its barrel apart and rending its armor before blasting red energy into it and speeding away again.
A cannon swivelled in place to fire upon the Knightmare from afar, but was suddenly bombarded by a spear-like rocket that embedded in its armor before detonating in a condensed explosion of focused energy. A Knightmare sped past the destroyed gun, the Jiralhanae just barely managing to get a glimpse of its silver and black exterior before the gun they were looking through was detonated by another rocket launched from its shoulder-mounted cannon.
The last thing the Jiralhanae were able to see was an eagle-like faceplate, gazing into them like prey before the feast with its sharp green eyes.
"Much appreciated, Griffon." The pilot of the Hō-ō stated, before moving onto his next target
The silver Griffon dashed above him, firing another rocket from its cannon towards the Hō-ō's target before twisting and landing on the ground. The silver Knightmare rose up, hefting its cannon and looking towards the other frame. "If you're thanking me, Shinji; the least you could do is call me by my name." The pilot replied with a sigh, before twisting around, firing, and destroying yet another point-defense cannon, "Try it: Rhi-an-non."
"Much appreciated, Miss Yates." Shinji replied with a snort of amusement, before raising his naginata and speeding toward another gun as Rhiannon sighed with annoyance, "Arse."
Back at the fields, the Horus and the Garuda –now free from the point-defense cannons' focus- thrust forward with impunity; the Horus blasting apart groups of enemy infantry and vehicles with its missiles, and the Garuda slicing massive gashes into the earth as it tore apart the alien combines.. The Knightmares of Phoenix Squad devastated the Covenant troops, massacring them as they dominated the battlefield with their dauntless might, skilled pilots, and advanced technology.
The Jiralhanae, Grunts, and Yanme'e were now at full retreat, the ship's remaining point-defense cannons and the remaining alien vehicles covering their escape as large, tuning fork-shaped purple dropships flew over the fields and picked up soldiers via what looked like tractor beams. The Horus was beset by several of the alien combines, pinning Cassandra down at the cost of their own lives as the imposing Knightmare Frame blasted them apart while taking their shots with its Blaze Luminous system. The Garuda, too, attempted to give chase; and succeeded in carving one of the dropships in half with its energy blade before the other alien aircraft depleted his shielding with their nose-mounted plasma turrets.
"Tch, pulling back." Rao spoke with annoyance, as he narrowly avoided another blast from plasma turrets before speeding away with a flap of his energy wings, "My armor…probably isn't enough to take those hits."
The enemy dropships entered the ship through an open hanger bay, which suddenly closed up with an energy wall of some kind. The Hō-ō and the Griffon continued destroying the ship's cannons, speeding along the edge of the ship as they worked in unison to scour the ship clean of them while remaining out of their firing range.
"Final enemy point-defense cannon," Shinji spoke over the comms, as his golden Knightmare stabbed the last remaining turret with its RVS Naginata; destroying it in a flare of crimson radiation, "Eliminated."
For a moment the once chaotic battlefield was silent, filled with only the quiet rustling of the wind through the ruined fields as the militiamen, Knightpolice officers, and UNSC marines stood motionless; gazing upon the Orbital Drop Shock Knights with awe and astonishment. They had decimated and routed the entire advanced alien force, and scoured their entire ship clean of its anti-fighter cannons, in less than fifteen minutes. This silence lasted until a figure climbed atop one of the destroyed alien vehicles, raising his rifle into the air and firing it once.
"Boys; take a little pride in yourselves, raise your heads high, and lemme hear those shouts!" Sergeant Johnson bellowed, joined at his side by Captain Ponder and Sergeant Byrne, "Because today, ladies and gentlemen, we taught those dumb bugs just what it means to mess with humanity!"
The deafeningly loud cries of the militiamen filled the air, as they extended their rifles into the air and cheered towards the Knightmares flying in the air. The Garuda, the Horus, the Hō-ō, and the Griffon all hovered above the soldiers before landing in the field in front of them. Rao was the first to get out of his Knightmare, the dark-skinned pilot pumping his fist into the air from his pilot cockpit and grinning with triumph as he wiped the sweat from his short black hair.
Next, came the Griffon's pilot. Rhiannon took off her helmet, her long light-blond hair swaying in the wind as she looked down at the militiamen with her sapphire blue eyes. She raised her hand, waving to them as she smiled. A few of the younger Harvest militiamen couldn't help themselves from staring at her ample chest, which was displayed through the tight black pilot suit that she wore.
The Hō-ō's cockpit opened up, and out of it came a man with short dark brown hair and a small stubble. His serious Asian features were in contrast to his shining bright Knightmare, and he furrowed his eyebrows as he looked towards the destroyed Knightpolice frames. Cassandra, the crimson Horus' pilot, was the last to exit from her Knightmare. The Britannian pilot's short-cropped white hair and red eyes immediately caught the attention of the militiamen below, but Harvest's strong sunlight caught her by surprise and forced her to cover her eyes.
"Great work, guys. I'm glad you all managed to hold them off for as long as you did; would've sucked if these guys managed to make it to the city before we got here." Rao spoke with a grin, before sighing "It's too bad the aliens escaped, but we'll get 'em later."
"Who's in charge here?" Shinji asked, straight to the point as she looked towards the militiamen, Knightpolice officers, and marines, "We were led to believe that a 'Captain Ponder' was leading this operation."
"That's me."
Captain Ponder stepped off of the ruined alien vehicle, walking towards the Japanese pilot who descended from his Knightmare towards the man. Shinji was the first to speak, "Our leader would like to speak with you." He spoke, as he passed the Captain his earpiece, "Privately."
Ponder accepted the earpiece, putting it to his ear before a voice suddenly spoke through it, "Is this Captain Ponder?" The voice asked, in a decidedly feminine tone
Captain Ponder almost nodded to the voice, before he caught himself and spoke, "Yes, to whom am I speaking to?"
"This is the leader of Phoenix Squadron, Captain Terra la Britannia."
The marine's eyes widened in shock as he heard the words 'la Britannia' being spoken: Though the Britannian royal family had long since lost most of its prestige, and it's various distant Princes and Princesses had little to no legal privileges over the standard citizens, they were still treated with respect and reverence by most UFNSC citizens. That a Princess of Britannia would take part in the defense of an outer colony world so far from Earth was…quite surprising to the marine Captain.
"Well, Captain." Ponder replied, avoiding the usage of her last name, "I must say, it's thanks to your Orbital Drop Shock Knights that we're all even still breathing. We owe you a debt of gratitude."
"You're welcome, Captain. I'm glad that my Knights were able to make it in time; it's…regrettable that the aliens evaded annihilation and capture by hiding in their ship, however." The voice stated, "Their technology was even more advanced than I'd been led to believe, but the might of our Knightmares proved victorious in the end."
"I must ask though, Captain." Ponder spoke, ignoring the Captain's statement, "Where, exactly, are you? It's strange for the commander of a unit to be absent from the battlefield."
"I and my Knightmare are currently in orbit aboard a UFNSC Corvette, awaiting repairs on my frame. I've been coordinating my squadron from up here, alongside Commander Lamperouge." The princess replied, "He and his marines are currently securing the city in the event of a possible diversionary alien assault, he should be at the battlefield soon."
"More importantly, however. There's something I need to show you, Captain Ponder."
Ponder raised his eyebrow, "What is it, Captain?" He asked, looking towards Shinji for a moment before turning back to the ground, "Did we happen to miss anything during the battle."
An image was suddenly uploaded to Ponder's PDA, which he immediately took out and opened with curiosity. It was an orbital photograph of one of the U-shaped aircraft, the very last alien dropship to have entered the ship itself. He looked at the picture, studying it for a moment, before he finally realized just what he was missing and nearly dropped the picture in shock.
"We have to quickly rally our forces another assault, this time to enter the ship for a boarding action-style invasion of their vessel." The Britannian Captain spoke, her voice suddenly filled with urgency, "Commander Lamperouge has already been briefed on this threat, and also recommends that we take immediate action."
Captain Ponder looked around for a moment, looking at his weary and shell-shocked men; most of whom had never fired a bullet at a living target before in their lives up until now. He shook his head, speaking back to the voice, "Give us some time to recuperate and prepare for the assault, my men are too fatigued to go on fighting for now. Those aliens aren't going anywhere."
"We're not worried about if they're going anywhere or not, Captain Ponder." Terra spoke, as a grim expression came across Shinji's face. Captain Ponder now noticed that all of the pilots had a similarly grave countenance about them
"We're worried about what they're going to do with it."
-Same time, aboard the Rapid Conversion-
"Medic! Tend to Ritul's wounds!" Tartarus barked to a nearby Jiralhanae, dragging his comrade's battered and bleeding body out of the Spirit dropship, "He has lost too much blood, he shall not make it past the hour!"
"I am tending to a patient, brother!" The medic spoke, gesturing towards the writhing and groaning Jiralhanae lying before him, "And there are many others which require assistance as well!"
"Am I to just sit here and watch him die, medic?!" Tartarus bellowed
"No, brother." The medic replied nervously, attempting to keep his concentration as he worked on his patient, "But the most we can do is bandage his wounds and put him in stasis, until we are able to work on healing him at a later date like what we're doing with the lesser races."
"There may not be a 'later date', you fool!" Tartarus roared, slamming his fist against the wall, "The aliens are sure to press the attack now that we are weakened and defenseless! We need every able-bodied Jiralhanae to resist them, or we shall surely perish!"
"I am sorry, Tartarus." The medic spoke, his tone heavy and laden with regret as he sutured his patient's wounds; applying his spit as a natural disinfectant and healing aid on the sewn wound, "But there is nothing I can do for him at the moment."
The silver-haired Jiralhanae growled with fury as he dragged his ally's body across the floor, blood trailing across the hanger's metallic surface as he took him past the chaos of the rapidly scurrying medical personnel. He noticed with anger that the Huragok and his Unngoy Deacon companion, despite the fact that both had either the training or the natural ability to tend to and heal wounds, were absent from the makeshift medical camp inside the hanger bay. He would search for them later.
Upon reaching the stasis pods, he noticed that wounded Jiralhanae, Unngoy, and even Yanme'e occupied many of them. He reached for the closest pod -which held a badly injured Yanme'e drone- before deactivating it, throwing the occupant out of it to write in agony on the floor, and placing Ritul inside it instead. He turned to the screeching Yanme'e as he activated the stasis pod, slamming his large foot upon its head in anger and crushing the insectoid alien's skull.
They had lost the battle; completely and utterly defeated. It had gone well at first, despite the unexpected strange walking vehicles that the humans employed. But then the flying automatons came from the skies, instantly decimating the war vehicles that the Huragok had built for them and wreaking havoc on his ground soldiers. The technology of the aliens was obviously more advanced than they had previously thought.
He stomped out of the stasis pod chambers, looking around for his uncle before finding him rested against a wall; the Fist of Rukt lain at his side as he sat on the floor. Maccabeus looked up to his angered nephew, a weary look upon his face. Tartarus noticed that the golden armor that his uncle wore as chieftain was scraped and peppered with shrapnel; Maccabeus had obviously refused medical treatment for his hidden wounds in lieu of letting his men get treated.
"Tartarus, my nephew." Maccabeus spoke with a cough, wheezing as he spoke, "Are you…uninjured?"
"My wounds are minor, uncle." Tartarus replied, eying the damaged chieftain's armor, "Though yours are, quite obviously, not. Let me get a medic to treat them, lest you suffer permanent-"
Maccabeus placed his hand upon Tartarus, interrupting him as he spoke, "Nay, Tartarus…there is no need for that."
The silver-haired Jiralhanae raised an eyebrow in confusion, looking around his uncle's body, before setting his eyes upon the right breastplate. His face turned pale, as he understood what his uncle had meant.
There was a large gash in the armor, and a piece of shrapnel was just barely sticking out of it.
Tartarus immediately bend down and removed his uncle's chest armor, and the extent of the wound soon became apparent. The metal shard had pierced his heart and torn apart one of his three lungs, and his body fur was coated in red and blue blood. Were it that his uncle was a younger Jiralhanae, he may have been able to survive such grievous wounds.
But no amount of medical care would be able to save him now.
"Now…do you see, Tartarus?" Maccabeus asked, wheezing as he laughed, "This…is my fate, for my hubris and disrespect to the works of the Ancients. I can only…pray, that they shall allow my passage…to the Great Journey."
His uncle was dying; Tartarus knew this. Deep within his heart, he had always held hatred for the man's weakness. But now, seeing him die in front of his eyes like an old and feeble San 'Shyuum; watching as the wounds inflicted on him by the mechanical juggernauts took their toll…he could not help but shiver with rage and anger, slamming his fist against the floor as he bent closer to his uncle.
"Uncle, what destiny awaits our clan without you? We are leaderless, cowed, and surrounded by all sides." Tartarus spoke, gritting his fanged teeth, "I fear that this is the end of our clan…"
Maccabeus placed a hand on his shoulder, surprising the younger Jiralhanae, "Fear not…Tartarus." He replied with a small smile, "The Ancients…are with us; believe in them…and they shall never fail to reward your faith. In this…you can be certain."
Tartarus was silent for a moment, as other Jiralhanae began gathering around; having finally noticed their leader's plight. He then finally spoke, "Who shall lead us then…as Chieftain? Who shall be the one to save us from this bleak path we tread?"
Maccabeus laughed, looking towards Tartarus with a quizzical glance, "Is that not…already clear, my nephew?" He spoke, before reaching for the cudgel at his side
"You."
His statement was simple and clear, undeniable to all nearby as he presented the Fist of Rukt to Tartarus, easily hefting it despite his heavy injuries, "You…shall be the one to lead our clan through this darkness, to restore glory…to our name; not only…for our clan, but for all Jiralhanae...in the Covenant we serve."
Tartarus looked at his uncle incredulously, raising his arms as he accepted the ancient hammer and nodded; his face hardening with resolve, "With the aid of the Forerunners, and the strength of our clan; I swear to you, my Uncle, that I shall deliver us from this crisis. Our pack shall not end here, the Heretic scum at our gates will know the fury of the Jiralhanae!"
Maccabeus smiled, coughing heavily as his eyes began flickering and his pulse weakened. His next words were weak, so soft that only Tartarus himself could hear them; but he would forever keep them embedded in his mind.
"Doubt." He spoke weakly, invoking part of the traditional Progression of the Ages ritual
Tartarus hesitated for a moment, before replying, "Loyalty…and faith."
"Never forget the meaning of this Age…nephew."
With that, the last light in Maccabeus' eyes died; and the Jiralhanae chieftain fell into eternal slumber.
Tartarus slowly rose from the floor, gripping the cudgel in his hands tightly as he raised his head to the skies and howled with incomprehensible wrath. The Jiralhanae around him began roaring as well, as a tribute to their fallen chieftain and a hail to their new leader. One of the Jiralhanae, Grattius, then took Maccabeus' helmet and presented it to Tartarus; thus confirming his leadership of the pack as the gathered Jiralhanae kneeled before him.
The new Chieftain turned to the Jiralhanae closest to him, "Vorenus, remove the armor from his corpse and secure his body. We shall pay our proper respects when our foes have been scattered. Everybody else, prepare our defenses and arm yourselves; this battle has not yet ended."
Vorenus nodded, before moving towards Maccabeus' body and beginning to strip the armor plates from him. Tartarus spared one last look at his deceased uncle, before whispering softly, "Don't you know, Uncle?"
"This sorry Age has ended."
With that, Tartarus walked off to other parts of the hanger to search for the trump card that may now be their only hope of survival; a certain tool which went by the name of Lighter Than Some.
-Spirit Hanger Bay No. 3, same time-
Unngoy did not question orders, Unngoy did not rebel against their superiors, and Unngoy did not deviate from their missions without reason.
Dadab the Unngoy, however, had just done one of those forbidden acts; and it caused him no end of anxiety. Though he was a Deacon, and though he was the only one who could communicate with his much more useful friend; there was no way that the Jiralhanae were going to forgive him for this.
Said friend, however, was currently oblivious to his anxiety; excitedly hovering around a piece of scavenged machinery like it was a simple toy. It had no idea of the carnage and devastation that had been wrought outside, and Dadab could not even begin to comprehend what it was thinking.
By the Journey, what had he been thinking? He was under clear, strict orders to pilot the Spirit and pick up as many as possible, then to retreat immediately after. His friend, however, had insisted that they took a detour for this…thing; in lieu of attempting to save the rest who were being annihilated while it was kept unaware.
He wanted to say no, he had to say no; but his friend had been very insistent, actually jumping out of the dropship and descending to the ground in an attempt to convince him. He couldn't have abandoned it; it had saved his life twice before. So he went down, activated the Spirit's gravity beam, and picked up both his friend and the machine he had asked for instead of saving his comrades.
He went up to his friend with a sigh, knowing that the Jiralhanae would come after them any moment now to question them, and trying to formulate some kind of plan to save their hides. His friend, however, was not paying him any attention; and so he whistled angrily to get his attention.
Lighter Than Some, the floating pink gas sack Huragok who's tentacles were able to create miracles with their touch, drifted down to Dadab; shifting its tentacles in Huragok sign language to speak with him, "You have an issue?" It asked, quizzically cocking its worm-like head
"Issue? You may have cost us our lives!" Dadab signed angrily, "The Jiralhanae shall have our heads for this!"
"Heads?" The Huragok asked, before gesturing to the machine, "But they were delighted by the offerings I made for the aliens, this new offering will be likely to please them even more!"
Dadab's right eye widened in confusion, as he continued signing, "New…offering?"
"Yes!" The Huragok replied excitedly, clapping its tentacles together, "The 'humans' did not appreciate the offering we gave them, because it was not to their liking! But if we were to give them something similar to what they favor, something created using a blend of their creative technology and our technology, then surely they would see reason!"
The Deacon looked over the wreckage that the Huragok had obtained; it was one of the aliens' blue and white bipedal machines, damaged by an earlier 'offering' repurposed into a war machine that the Huragok had created which also lay beside it. His hands trembled and his face paled as he realized just what his friend's intent was.
"No!" Dadab signed frantically, "Absolutely not! If the Jiralhanae catch wind of this, then they will surely-!"
Dadab's signing was interrupted by the sliding open of the hanger bay doors. He prayed to the Forerunners that it was not a Jiralhanae; but the odor of their 'hosts' was unmistakable. He then prayed with all his might that it was not who he thought it was; but the silver fur of the one Jiralhanae he despised above all others was similarly distinct.
"Deacon!" Tartarus bellowed, his loud footfalls resounding throughout the hanger, "What is the meaning of this?!"
It seemed as though the Ancients had truly forsaken him.
"While your comrades lay wounded and dying, you and the Huragok sequester yourselves here?!" Tartarus asked with venom in his tone, "And what is this I hear of your Spirit failing to save even a single-!"
The new Chieftain's mouth hung agape in shock, as he witnessed the sight before him. The damaged bipedal robot, the partially disassembled war machine, a Spirit dropship, and the Huragok holding a piece of the robot in its tentacles were all enough to make him completely speechless. His mind whirled as he realized the possibilities that this entailed, and he grinned widely as a most pleasant opportunity came to mind.
"I-I assure you…I can explain…." Dadab spoke with fear, taking a few steps back from the massive Jiralhanae
"There is no need, Deacon." Tartarus replied with a smile, displaying his many fangs as he approached the alien machine and placed his palm upon it, "It is already very, very obvious what the Huragok intends as penance for the failure of its earlier machines…"
Dadab's mind whirled as Tartarus came to what was perhaps the worst possible conclusion; but it was one that would save both of their lives. He looked towards Lighter Than Some, knowing that the peaceful Huragok would never want his future creation to be used to kill the aliens, but he could not and would not allow his friend to die even if he had to lie for it, and to it.
"It is…most beneficial that you understand, sir!" The Deacon spoke, putting on his best enthusiastic façade, "The Huragok intends on combining all of these to create a machine worthy of the Chieftain's piloting, to use against the aliens!"
Tartarus looked towards Dadab, and for the first time the Unngoy noticed that he was wearing a familiar golden helmet, "I am the Chieftain now, Deacon. This machine will be mine."
"Ah!" The Deacon stated, quickly bowing in respect, "Of course! Of course! My humblest apologies, Chieftain!"
Tartarus did not bother to respond, instead looking towards the Huragok, "When will it be ready? We haven't much time until the aliens arrive."
Dadab looked towards his friend, signing the Chieftain's question towards him. Lighter Than Some responded with an eager flurry of tentacles, and Dadab felt that it was happy to have proven the Unngoy wrong about the Jiralhanae's reaction, "I can have it ready in an hour at most, such simple machinery is quite easy to modify!"
Dadab nodded, before turning to Tartarus, "He says that he can have it ready in an hour at most, but…" He spoke, a sudden realization entering his mind as he realized that the Huragok would never affix weapons to his creation, "Without…weapons, you will have to use the Yanme'e for that purpose."
Tartarus was too pleased with the news to care to ask why the Huragok would be unable to install weapons, and waved his hand, "It is of no concern, ordering them to install the many weapons we have onto the machine will be a simple task. Order the Huragok to begin work at once."
"Yes, Chieftain!" Dadab exclaimed, as Tartarus turned to leave the room
Dadab could've sworn that the Jiralhanae looked towards his large stone cudgel with a grin, as if there was something special about the primitive weapon, but he pushed it aside as he turned towards his friend, "The Chieftain approves of your work, he says to be swift for the aliens shall soon arrive."
Lighter Than Some clapped its tentacles together several times excitedly, before quickly floating over to the alien machine and beginning to disassemble it. Dadab sighed as he sat down on the floor, watching with amazement as the Huragok stripped the machine of its components; making ooh noises at everything it thought was interesting or fascinating. The Deacon could not help but feel guilty for what he had done, but he pushed it aside as he remembered just what his priorities were.
As he watched his friend take out what looked like a pink glowing cube from the innards of the machine, analyze it, and reconfigure it in only five seconds; he knew that whatever the Huragok was making, whatever intent his friend was creating the machine with…
It would make short work of the alien nightmares that flew in the sky.
Well, there you have it! Some insight on the UFNSC leadership has been shown, the Knightmares and their pilots have been unveiled, and the Covenant are getting ready for a little asskicking of their own. A lot of concepts from Halo: Contact Harvest were used in this chapter (The Progression of the Ages, the Harvest Militia, etc…); but overall I tried to make it separate from the events of the book for those that haven't read it.
Now for a little description!
Knightmare Frames: The Knightmare Frames of the UFNSC have mostly been standardized into three types: Heavy Artillery (Caliburn-Type), Anti-Vehicular (Leicester-Type), and Anti-Knightmare (Akira-Type) Frames. These Frames come with standard choices of modifications and weapons, but spec-ops and elite teams are allowed a wider variety of modifications.
The KMFs in this chapter are:
The Horus:
General Characteristics:
Type: Caliburn
Crew: One
Height: 4.78 meters
Weight: 9.80 metric tons
Power Source: Sakuradite Fission Drive
Color Scheme: Crimson and black.
Design Features:
Blaze Luminous System
Black Energy Wing propulsion system
Landspinner propulsion system
Cockpit Ejection System
Armament:
1x Stark Hadron Cannon
1x Baryon Cannon (Can be combined with Stark Hadron Cannon to form a Fusion Cannon)
Miniature Missile Launcher Pods
The Garuda:
General Characteristics:
Type: Akira
Crew: One
Height: 5.10 meters
Weight: 9.10 metric tons
Power Source: Sakuradite Fission Drive
Color Scheme: Green and black.
Design Features:
Blaze Luminous Shielding System
Green Energy Wing propulsion system
Landspinner propulsion system
Cockpit Ejection System
Armament:
4x Slash Harkens (2x Arm-mounted and 2x Hip-mounted)
2x Wing-mounted Blaze Luminous MVS Particle Shields.
2x Gladius Luminous Energy Blades
1x Gauss Rifle
The Hō-ō:
General Charcteristics:
Type: Akira
Crew: One
Height: 5.10 meters
Weight: 9.15 metric tons
Power Source: Sakuradite Fission Drive
Color Scheme: Gold and black.
Design Features:
Radiant Wave Shielding System
Crimson Energy Wing propulsion system
Landspinner propulsion system
Cockpit Ejection System
Armament:
10x Finger-Mounted Slash Harkens
1x Radiant Vibration Sword (RVS) Naginata
2x Shoulder-mounted chainguns
The Griffon:
General Charcteristics:
Type: Leicester
Crew: One
Height: 4.90 meters
Weight: 9.05 metric tons
Power Source: Sakuradite Fission Drive
Color Scheme: Silver and black.
Design Features:
Blaze Luminous Shielding System
White Energy Wing propulsion system
Landspinner propulsion system
Cockpit Ejection System
Armament:
4x Slash Harkens (2x Arm-mounted and 2x Hip-mounted)
1x Shoulder-mounted M42 SSR Needle Blazer Rocket Launcher
2x Shoulder-mounted machine guns
1x Arm-mounted chaingun
1x Gladius Luminous Knife
All the KMFs of Phoenix Squadron are based off of legendary and mythical birds, it's their theme. I'll delve more into the Orbital Drop Shock Knights and Phoenix Squadron's pilots next chapter. Also coming next chapter is a little more exposition on the Spartans, Commander 'Leon' Lamperouge, and the current state of affairs in the UFNSC.
Thank you for reading, and I hope you could find the time to please write a review; they're the best encouragement I have to continue writing, and a really helpful source of input on bettering the story. ^_^