Chapter Fifteen

2155 hours, November 5, 2552 (Military Calendar) \
African Desert, Kenya \
Earth, Earthian Sol System

"What did you say?" asked a puzzled Master Chief.

"The Covenant are pulling back. They're headed right toward that artifact," responded the Marine on the other side. "They're not engaging, just moving out. Looks like we've got those bastards on the run!"

"No, we don't. Have you picked up any odd Covenant transmissions?"

"Haven't heard of any, but I'll tell – wait, what the hell is that?"

John waited impatiently as he piloted the sole operational Wraith tank that survived his most recent battle. No enemies had been encountered since then, and John maintained a safe course toward the swirling vortex in the sky.

"We're getting some odd harmonics feeding through a decommissioned RF band. Amplifying – what the…sounds like…some monk singing, Chief."

"Do we have translation software online? That's the Prophet of Truth, get that in English now."

"It's gonna take a minute, Chief. Standby."

John's stomach sank. He angled his tank toward the west to get a look at the blob of enemy contacts that had just appeared on his motion sensor, which was set to long-range. Fifteen banshee fliers in formation were a half-klick away, approaching the Wraith on a direct vector. The tank's weapons systems were offline, and John had miles of flat desert with nowhere to hide. He was a sitting duck, whether or not he jumped out of the tank. He opted to stay and let the tank take the first round of plasma fire.

Just as he was expecting plasma bolts to begin streaming from the enemy craft, the group peeled off their vector onto John's previous heading. The tension in John's gut released as he began to realize what Truth's transmission could entail. He steadied his vehicle back on course toward the looming vortex in the distance. It had grown closer, but seemed an eternity away.

The Spartan snaked the agonizingly slow tank through the desert. He had asked for pickup, but the request was temporarily suspended due to limited resources.

"Chief...got th- ----mission...-t ..ays '-ome ... join us on... --eat Jo---journey. Th- Ark will...--'"

Static filled the channel.

"Please repeat. Over."

Silence.

Something was jamming his communication hardware. Worse yet, the Wraith that had limped across the past twelve kilometers sputtered and died. John was stranded in the middle of the desert, and no one was coming for him.

"Is anyone there? This is Spartan-117 requesting immediate evac. Over."

His effort was fruitless. Frustrated, and half-understanding the garbled transmission, John knew he had to double-time it to the artifact. He climbed out of the lifeless Wraith and began a steady sprint. "What in Sam Hill is goin' on out there?

HighCom had never seen such activity, more so each time the situation got worse. It had hit the fan.

"Sir, radiation spikes have been recorded four times, originating at the artifact. The spikes would be lethal to humans, even inside an aircraft or ship."

"You got any idea what the hell that's about?" asked Major Nicholas Strauss. Everyone had donned a disheveled look in the days since the Covenant invasion, but Strauss' nerves were particularly frayed.

"No, sir, we are attempting to gather data. This has been tough since satellites have –"

"Stow your excuses. Just get me some intel, ASAP!"

Another officer walked over and whispered, "We've lost contact with Spartan-117. He was on a heading toward the artifact, but radiation spikes have jammed communications. Recommendations?"

Strauss furrowed his brow. He had done everything he could to help the Spartan, much to the dismay of certain brass in HighCom. Resources had already been thin, and any resources he had already spent on the super soldier had been heavily frowned upon.

"There's not much more we can do. Unless he re-establishes contact, he's on his own."

"But, sir –"

"I said nothing, do you read me? Now get back to your post."

Strauss put the Spartan out of his mind. There was nothing he could do for the man now. There was nothing anyone could do for him now.

Godspeed.

John paused at a lone acacia tree in the wilderness. Nearly twelve kilometers had been traversed in a single sprint, a feat nearly impossible for a mere mortal. Even demi-gods and demons needed their rest, however, and Spartan-117 took a moment in the shadow of the tree to quench himself with a water ration and a stim pack. Along the way, waves of Phantoms and Banshees had passed overhead. He had braced for an attack when the first wave streaked overhead, but it eventually became clear to him they were not interested in a lone target, even if it were the 'demon' himself.

Still, John held his weapon in hand. He could assume only so much about enemy craft passing nearby, and he wanted to take little chances.

John moved forward from the shadow of the tree, through the hollow carcass of a Hornet long-ago destroyed. He could not help but feel a sense of peace, as though he had done everything he could to save humanity. That feeling was coupled with a sense of failure, as the ambient radiation he was monitoring spiked and held its power. He had noticed the percussive spikes in ambient radiation as he grew closer to the artifact, but the high level was now constant.

Aircraft continued to pass overhead, ignoring what was humanity's best hope for survival. They maintained their course towards the looming structure in the distance. John had finally reached the crater, but the artifact was still several kilometers in. The Master Chief approached the edge of a cliff as the structure began to move.

He was too late.

Fourteen fins rose from the ground, protruding into the air like arms raised to the heavens. A bright light shone in the center of the formation, illuminating the area. Hundreds of Covenant aircraft and spaceships circled the position in confused patterns.

Suddenly, the light flashed. John braced himself as the ground rumbled and the air cried out with thunder. The Covenant ships were apparently not prepared for this turn of events, and they began to turn and speed away from the scene. The bright light became a beam that shot out from the center of the structure. The skies boiled and the moon turned blood red behind the shroud of dark clouds as a radiation shockwave exploded outward from the structure. The panorama became exponentially brighter as the shockwave quickly bore down on each ship, and soon the Master Chief was enveloped.

Light turned to dark as the Spartan collapsed and blacked out.