A/N: Everything is coming together in these final few chapters; plan on seeing one or two more for this story, and then the epilogue. Then, Aftermath gets rewritten. Also, I'm in the stages of planning another Halo series, this one dealing with…well, a few loose ends that need to be tied up, but those will be written after the Charlie Company series (yes, series) is totally done.

Warior: And it only gets better.


Kulatu Ter'Greal: Uh…sure.

NoneAvailible: I do believe I was the first to journey into those, way back before Halo 2. The prophecy…all will be explained about that. At present, I'm working on describing the environment and character development (which I have been lacking for years), and length will be worked on later.

Razzle Jazzle: You have a point, but I really don't care what Bungie says or the books. I'm writing this for the hell of it, so the books and a lot of the plot are going to be nill. This is really a story that I'm writing that just happens to be in the Halo universe.

Zichalo: Welcome back! Thank you for the compliments.

The Marines of Charlie Company:

Chapter Thirteen

Prophecy

'Takamee couldn't believe it; the savior of their kind was a human? 'Impossible' he told himself quietly, 'The Gods would never allow such blasphemy! The Prophets have long said-' and that's when he stopped himself. None of the Covenant had ever been allowed to read the Holy Text of the Forerunner Artifacts. Now that he thought about it, the Prophets were the only members of the entire Covenant that had ever been allowed to speak of the Halo and their purposes. They were also the ones that declared the Humans an abomination of the universe; lowly creatures that were nothing more than excrement to be scraped from the Covenant's boot.

The humans were a danger to the Great Journey, the Prophets had said over and over, and must be destroyed. But, he recalled, their forces had never really met any real resistance other than the Demons, these so-called Spartans. Yet, here he was, sitting across from a mere human with a Holy Blade strapped to his waist; worst of all, though, was that the pathetic worm had learned how to activate and use the Blade with some degree of skill. 'Takamee had seen it for himself, and the Elite wasn't stupid; he could put two and two together to make a single, coherent sentence. All of that, plus the next sentence, shattered his faith in the Great Journey and the Prophet Hierarchy.

"They are called the Flood by the Forerunners." The Human had said.

"So…the Prophecies are true." 'Takamee muttered under his breath, still in utter disbelief at the hand that fate had dealt him.

"What prophecies?" the human queried, his facial expression showing something…confusion? 'Takamee could not read human expressions, so he made his best guess.

The Special Forces Elite took a deep breath and collected his thoughts; a lot of explaining was going to have to go into this, especially if the tiny-brained beings called 'Humans' were to understand it. After a brief few moments of thinking, meditating and all around preparation for what he was about to say, which, to most of the Elites in his class especially, would be considered Heresy to the highest of degrees. To tell the Humans of any of their culture would bring about untold shame, but 'Takamee had no choice; he was now advisor the the Prophesized One.

"Long ago, before the Covenant, our people discovered our first glimpse of Forerunner technology and lore. In this small glimpse we had, a Prophecy was discovered; a Savior would come forth from the shadows of obscurity and a race on the brink of destruction to prevent the Great Cataclysm/ Since then, the Sangheili have sought out this Savior and, during our search, the Prophets found us and told our people of the Great Journey. That was nearly seven hundred years ago.

Now, many of the Sangheili believe that the Prophets are the saviors, but I highly doubt it now."

During his explanation, 'Takamee could've sworn he heard 'Heretic' uttered from somewhere to his right. It couldn't have been the 'Kanamee or 'Zukamee; they would have never uttered a word about it, partly because 'Takamee was their leader and partly because they agreed with him. A good number of Elites were beginning to see through the mist that the Prophets had shrouded them in; a few had even gone so far as to break away from the Covenant and form their own Heretic Militias. In general, the Prophets ignored these militias until they grew in size and began attracting more and more of the younger Elties into them; 'Takamee had nearly been drawn into one himself.

There was the possibility that 'Zamamee could have said something, but 'Takamee sorely doubted it; most of the young ones disagreed with the slaughter of humans to begin with, but would never speak of it to their superiors. That only left the old Veteran sitting near the cockpit of their transport, who looked rather disgruntled at the entire situation. It was possible that they could be executed for engaging cooperatively with humans in any fashion; the Prophets despised the creatures that much. 'Takamee sighed and turned back to the human across from him, who was still staring at him with no muted degree of interest.

"I'd say you're right, Spli-Elite. What do your Prophets want with this damn ring, anyway? From what I've seen, the only things here are us, the Flood and the wildlife."

'Zamamee spoke before 'Takamee could even formulate a sentence.

"The Prophets seek to activate the Sacred Ring and initiate the Great Journey to Salvation for us all, or so they say. Once the Sacred Ring is activated, a Cleansing Flame will sweep through the universe, propelling all who are worthy along the Path of Salvation."

At this point, the human laughed and shook his head. His fellows all looked at him strangely, as if they thought he were crazy.

"Your Prophets don't have a fucking clue. The Halos are weapons, my friend, designed to destroy all life large enough to keep the Flood alive and kicking. According to Tier'Thal, there are a bunch of these things, all scattered among the stars. You guys are making a big mistake by trying to activate these things."

"This is outrageous! Leader, you cannot allow this worm to speak this blasphemy any further!" cried the Veteran.

"Calm yourself, you fool!" snapped 'Kanamee. "Are you old ones all so blind to the lies of our so-called Hierarchs? They send us to our deaths like Grunts to the slaughter! For what?"

The pair bickered back and forth in their native tongue, and 'Takamee was about to step in when the human across from him stood up, strolled back to the old Veteran and slammed him against the hull of the drop ship with a force that shocked everyone. 'Kanamee sank back down into his position and all eyes were on the human, who was now holding the Crimson clad veteran in a fierce grip around his throat.

"Now, you listen hear, Split Chin. I don't give a God damn about the Prophets or you or your Great Journey or whatever. The only thing I care about is saving my people from being wiped off the face of the universe. You can either shut the hell up and sit down, or I can throw you out as Flood chow."

A growl, a curse and a snarl escaped the Veterans jaws, but he conceded and returned to his place as the Human let him go. 'Takamee knew that this had to be the one now; the only other Human that had that kind of strength was the Demon, Master Chief, and he was nowhere to be found. The Elite knew that if he were to ever return to the Covenant, he would be executed for treason, but if he stayed with the Humans…there was always the possibility that an agreement of some kind could be worked out between them (the Humans had tried before), so 'Takamee decided he could try.

"What is your name, Human?"

"David Carson," stated the Marine as he sat back down in his seat and resumed his position looking out over the landscape that blurred past underneath them.

"I am 'Takamee Za'Ukamee. The two over there are 'Kanamee and 'Zamamee. Our young rookie here is 'Zalamee, and the old Veteran over there is Isca 'Fusamee."

Each Elite (with the exception of Isca) nodded as his name was called, and 'Zalamee even responded with a greeting and what would pass for a smile among their kind. David nodded in return and extended his hand toward each one as an offer of friendship; again, all of them but Isca took it in their grasp and shook hands with him. The next few moments passed in silence before the intercom clicked on and Carson was called to the front. 'Takamee followed and had to hunch over to get inside the cockpit, but managed to see what was happening. Giant colums of smoke plumed out in the distance, and the flashes of combat could be seen even from the four or so miles they were still out.

The radio in the cockpit was nearly impossible to listen to; dozens of voices were speaking all at the same time in the same panicked tone, each overlapping the other and making it impossible to discern any one shout or cry for help from another. All of the reports and requests for assistance were in consensus, however; monsters of some kind were everywhere, attacking, killing, devouring and turning soldiers at every corner in every way coming from any direction possible.

"Foehammer, get me in there."

The experienced pilot looked dumbstruck; here they were, far enough away from danger, and some psychopathic Sergeant wanted her to fly into it?

"Sergeant?"

"You heard me, Lieutenant, get me to Alpha Base. I have my reasons."

"Sorry, son, but I'm not flying my baby into the thick of combat for anyone but God himself right now."

"And I'm not leaving mine behind. If there's even the slightest chance that Cassandra's still alive, I'm going to find her. You don't have to stick around; I'll find a way out myself."

The pilot sighed, shook her head and pushed the Pelican forward toward the structure that stood above everything else, the blue-green tint now marred by pockmarks from rockets, tanks, general explosions, and overall combat. Fires could be seen clearly now, and the outlines of ghastly figures that sprinted about and exchanged fires could be recognized. 'Takamee couldn't understand what purpose this human could have for practically committing suicide, but 'Takamee would have to follow; he discovered the Young One, so it was now his job to protect him.

David pushed past the Elite and stood in the cockpit's doorway.

"All right, listen up! Alpha Base is under attack by the Flood, and there are still some of our people inside. I'm going in to look up a particular young lady, but I can't do it alone. Any volunteers?"

The hold was silent for a moment before the youngest of the Elites stood and volunteered himself, followed by the two Special Forces Elites in front of him. Not to be outdone, Yaeger, Fyodr and Franklin volunteered as well. 'Takamee set his clawed hand upon David's shoulder and nodded his service as well. The rest of the troops would stay aboard Foehammer's drop ship and find somewhere safe to hide or try and get off the ring; that would be David's suggestion. The supply cabinets built into the fuselage of the Pelican were opened and the team that would be heading in took everything they could grab.

David stuffed his pockets full of shotgun shells, added three more clips for his pistol, a bandolier of four grenades, and started to reach for assault rifle ammo, but remembered his had been broken. He cursed softly and went about checking his M90 for any damage, dirt, mud, muck or anything else that could clog the firing chamber or hammer, but found nothing; the weapon was remarkably clean. Another few minutes passed before the Pelican began to slow down and rotate, then it's descent to the ground. David leapt out and down onto the grassy gnoll, his other volunteers behind him. They were about half a klik from the Alpha's 'front door'.

"This is as close as I can get you, Sergeant. Those things are too heavily armed for a direct insertion; sorry. Good luck to you in finding Cassandra; she's a nice gal. You're a lucky fella. Echo-419 over and out."

The Marine laughed despite himself and waved to Foehammer after she'd taken off and was making a loop around. All jokes aside now, the small band of soldiers grimly began to make their march straight into the mouth of Hell itself.