Level 11: Protocols for surrender
Ark Excavation site // Mombasa observatory
ONI Facility Bravo A-11092G: The Gatekeeper
November 3, 2552
"How deep can they dig?"
"As deep as they want to. We can't stop them. Our forces are in shambles, and HighCOM is under direct assault from a Brute Carrier wing."
"How many ships does Truth have in his arsenal? It seems like more ships show up everyday."
"The ships he has above us aren't even a fraction of his forces. Most of the Elite ships are fighting the Brutes in orbit. We've received confirmed reports of Brute ships on every continent on Earth, including the poles. Civilian prisoners have been taken in North America, Japan and Europe. Marine forces are engaged in stronghold defenses in countless locations around the world… and then there's the Chief."
"That Spartan is still alive?"
"He's managed to save several platoons on his way here, but getting faster transportation seems to be a problem. Time is crucial, but with those Brute Seraph patrols in the area… well, any pelicans that get close to the ground are shot down."
"I recall the situation was not promising. Do you think he is really needed? Halsey's freaks are old news."
"Deny it as much as you want, Colonel, your Spartan III's have not done nearly as much as the Master Chief has during this war."
"If they were here and on the front lines…"
"Then why aren't they here?"
The two men looked towards the view screen in silence as dozens of Covenant ships dug away layers of debris, slowly exposing the massive structure of the Ark. One of the men lowered his head and wiped away the sweat beads that trickled slowly from his brow.
He looked to the younger man to address him. "They're all gone. Save only a handful that I had not sent to Onyx."
"The Shield World?" The younger man questioned mockingly. "I just finished catching up on the report. You were warned, Colonel."
"How were we to know that Delta Halo would thankfully misfire?"
"It is ironic that the salvation of the galaxy would be the downfall of your SIII program." The man smiled smugly, giving the Colonel no since of sympathy. "The misfire sequence triggered the activation of the Shield World. You should have warned Ambrose. But now, all you can do is sit and pray that your Spartan IIIs are still alive."
"I stand by my decisions."
"Just like your decision to abandon your Halo outpost?"
"When did this become a direct attack against me? You young punks don't understand the nature of Section III and the reason we make the decisions we do."
"I understand that the 501 battle group was nearly annihilated in its first day of combat, yet you somehow escaped unscathed… and happily found your way down here. Why didn't you go to HighCom, Colonel? Or better yet, why not dock at Cairo station and fight alongside Admiral Hood? What brings you to the Gate?"
"Like I said, kid, you will never understand why Section III makes the decisions it makes." The Colonel powered off the monitor and returned to his seat at a table. The lights powered on and the young man adjusted his vision. He turned his head away from the light and brushed his hair out of his face. The Colonel began to thumb through a small booklet which was covered in dust. Imprinted on the cover were the words UNSCDF: Terms and conditions of surrender.
"We'd rather die then surrender, Colonel." The young man stated through gritted teeth.
"You didn't seem that eager to die when Major Rawlings threatened to put you in front of a firing squad. Did Black Ops 19 teach you some courage?" The young man remained silent. The Colonel felt a sense of joy at finally silencing the young man. "Now, since I'm here, why don't you explain to me how we lost control of the Seed ship? And I'd also like to know why Major Rawlings and my Spartans are missing in action?"
- - - - - - -
Mythic Beast // Jiralhanae Assault Cruiser
Camp Eden Defense Zone
Central Egypt
November 3, 2552
Moving at a snails pace, Gridolee and Simyaldee stumbled through the corridors of the massive Brute ship. Their wounds were finally catching up to them, and struggle as they might they could not move any faster. Simyaldee shouldered Gridolee's arm and offered the young warrior some support to lean on. The two of them slowly made their way through several levels of the ship, and finally neared an unused set of escape pods.
"Not much further." Simyaldee gasped as he turned a corner. It took them nearly ten minutes to reach the lower levels, but time was soon about to escape them. An alarm sounded throughout the ship.
"Blast!" Gridolee snarled. "We made it this far, only to burn in this Jiralhanae tomb." Gridolee had set the collusion alarm to sound throughout the ship, to warn them that there time was nearly up.
"We still have time." Simyaldee added as he neared a pod. He palmed the wall display, activating it. The panel glowed to life and Simyaldee quickly inputted his Spec Ops access code. Hopefully the Brutes had not taken the time to change them. The door parted and Simyaldee blindly flung Gridolee inside. He dived in behind him and rolled to the launch controls. There was no time to strap in. "Hold on."
The escape pod thumped to life as its engines propelled it from the belly of the ship. Simyaldee was thrown backwards, his head hitting the metal frame; his shattered helmet took the brunt of the impact. Gridolee hung on for dear life, but his grip slipped and he also began to tumble around the escape pod.
The Mythic Beast maintained its forward progress as the stationary guns of Camp Eden began to fire. The shields of the ship easily held against hundreds of ground turret cannon fire as the ship impacted Camp Eden's shield grid. The ship slowed on impact, but only by half its speed. It continued to push forward, propelled by the same engines that could throttle it into orbit, and the shields of Eden finally gave under the tremendous force. The hull of the Mythic Beast began to crumble from the forward decks toward the aft; crushing itself against the slowly weakening shields. Explosions riddled the once mighty ship as debris spat from all sides. Yet the massive weight and speed of the ship was too much for the human engineered shields of Camp Eden to withstand.
A bright flash of energy escaped the bubble formed around the base as the remains of the Brute ship speared into the base. The ship was nearly one-third the size of Camp Eden, and its impact was catastrophic. Buildings were toppled, roads were whipped away like sand, and fires scattered across the base. The Brute ship's internal damage finally gave way and the engines began to fade. Secondary explosions marked all around the ship and Camp Eden as the base's power grid failed from the impact.
The upper level of Camp Eden was without power and defenseless.
Several miles behind the ship soared Eric Raynord's Pelican. Everyone on board looked ahead as the Brute ship flashed and sank into the base. Their hearts dropped.
Melanie powered up her COM. "Camp Eden, do you copy? This is Red Squad, come in!" She frantically shouted but no reply came.
Eric shook his head. "They're in the dark, and Brute forces are most likely regrouping to attack. Palab, any word from Simyaldee?"
Palab placed his hand to his ear and listened for anything on the Mirratord or Spec Ops frequency. "Me hear nothing."
The radar alarm blurred to life and the co-pilot quickly scanned the area. "Seraph interceptors inbound!"
"Shit!" Eric cursed as he turned to his side and picked up his helmet. He pulled it on as a soft hiss filled the air, signaling that he had achieved an air tight seal. "05, button up." Melanie cursed beneath her breath as she pulled on her helmet. Eric and Melanie's helmets were new ODST replacements and had yet to be field modified to the Black Ops tastes, but the standard updates would come in handy. Eric keyed in the local radar signatures as friendly's and attached names to each: Palab, 05 and the two pilots.
Eric leaned close to the co-pilot. "Radio our coordinates to any nearby Longswords or Skyhawks… anything that can give us cover fire!"
The co-pilot switched to the local military channel. "Mayday, mayday! The is Nine tail 087 out of Camp Eden to any nearby fighter groups. We need immediate air support. Mayday, mayday! Our coordinates are… " The helm exploded as plasma fire melted through the top of the pelican, killing the co-pilot and pushing the pilot and his seat out of position to fly the bird. A group of Seraph fighters had fired off a lucky shot. Eric was thrown back as the Pelican nose dived and began to spin out of control. The engines sputtered and died. The pelican was barely over one hundred feet from the ground when it was hit, and though it was going to be a short trip to the ground, the impact was still going to be a wakening experience.
Palab rolled about the cabin, using his nimbleness to move closer to Melanie, He gripped her in his claws, wrapped his arms around her, and spun counter to the ships rotation just as the ship slid into the soft grassy soul of the surrounding perimeter of Eden. Unlike the dusty and dry area beyond Camp Eden's gates, the interior was a lush and tropical manmade zone. The landing was a soft one but it still jaw rattling. The bird moaned as the forward cockpit warped out of shape, and the belly of the bird dented and disfigured as soil spat from its side.
Eric held on to the bulkhead for dear life, recalling his previous landing, and adjusted to the pelicans sliding motion. The pelican came to a moaning halt and Eric quickly grabbed Palab and Melanie.
"You two okay?"
"Roger." Melanie sighed. "Thanks Palab."
The Grunt Messiah stood and nodded respectfully to the human female. His muscular form and rounder body gave plenty of support to cushion her fall.
Eric pulled open the ammo compartment, and passed out an Assault Rifle and shotgun to Melanie. She quickly strapped the shotgun to the back of her armor and loaded as much ammo into her pockets as possible, including magnum clips. Eric did the same, and then handed Palab two Submachine guns with several clips of ammo. The Grunt gleefully pocketed the clips and several 'bouncy' grenades.
Eric leaned toward the crumbled remains of the cockpit and looked away from the gruesome remains of the pilot; crushed between the bulkheads during the initial impact. He quickly pulled up his team list and deleted the co-pilot and pilot. He didn't even have a chance to enter their names.
Palab stepped out of the Pelican and looked skyward. Hundreds of insertion pods, escape pods, banshees, spirits, and phantoms were descending into the base. The Brutes that had escaped the kamikaze ship were entering Camp Eden without hindrance. Palab looked around and watched as panicked human marines ran around putting out fires from the crashed Brute ship, unaware or unconcerned with the impending Brute threat.
"Honorable human, Brutes come! Humans not see bad guys!"
Eric stumbled out of the Pelican and looked upward and then quickly scanned the area. "Displace, four hundred! Secure that area and prepare to form up!" Eric pointed toward a building that had been brushed by the crashing cruiser but had not fully been knocked down. Palab connected the SMG's to his belt and sprang forward onto all fours. He dashed across the grass and Melanie matched his speed. Eric opened a local broadcast on his COM. "Defensive stations! I repeat. Defensive stations! Camp Eden's shield is down and Brutes are incoming! All units form up on your command and defend your zone! Look up!"
He didn't care who heard it, so long as someone heard it. Eric watched as numerous marines stopped in their tracks and looked upward. They quickly tossed their fire gear and sprinted toward their assigned zones.
Eric nodded in approval. If only a few of the soldiers heard him then at least they could alert others. Camp Eden's upper level was in shambles, but at least they could still fight man to man. Eric sprinted after Palab, watching as several marines fell in line behind Melanie and the agile Grunt King. Melanie and Palab arrived at the building and hunkered down. The marines looked at Palab curiously, but remained silent about the obvious twist. Melanie quickly took a head count and ignored names or rank. She quickly added the additional troops to her team channel, and updated her HUD indicator Friend or Foe tags. She quickly uploaded the new 'team' to Eric's display.
Eric continued to sprint toward the group as the updated team indicators displayed on his HUD. "05, move those three marines at your six to the rear of the formation. From here, we have quick access to the proving grounds. Palab and I will take the front two Marines and go retrieve a few hogs and scorpions from the proving grounds garage. We'll make this our command bunker and expand outward. You send out a few search teams to rally more troops here. The Brutes will have to cut across this path in order to successfully break into the lower levels of the base." Eric slid into formation, took a knee, a quick breath and patted two marines on the shoulder. They quickly stood and began sprinting toward the garage area. Palab paced them, while sniffing the air for Brute soldiers.
Melanie watched as Eric's small team ran toward the far side of the proving grounds, and she then turned to three marines. "Fall to the back of the building and make sure the Brutes don't sneak up behind us." They nodded and moved out. She turned to four others, and then noticed that more and more marines were charging toward her location. Displaced troops in the area had seen them forming up inside the building and were quickly falling in to help. Melanie continuously updated the team list on her HUD. "You four, go and point out our location to anyone that looks like they've lost their squad. If you meet Covenant forces, radio in on channel four while retreating." The marine's exhaustingly nodded and broke camp. "Is anyone here from a local team?"
"I am sir." A young black marine stated. "Southern defense fire team, out of Eagle Company."
"Who's you're CO?"
The man thought for a second, obviously in shock from the chaos. "Sergeant Bradley."
"And where was your command station?" Melanie's questions came back to back; she was calm and collected. She was unaffected by the blazing inferno several hundred yards away, or the sound of distant weapons fire.
"About a half block that way." The marine pointed toward in boiling flame of buildings that were in the path of the crashing cruiser."
Melanie nodded. "You know the terrain, and your CO is most likely dead. Stick close to me and advise me of everything I need."
"Yes ma'am."
Melanie stood and zoomed outward into the distant field. Marines were cut off by a small pack of grunts and Brutes. They were taking cover inside a stable structure, while the Covenant forces danced around them with grenades and constant plasma fire.
Melanie leaned toward a marine and took his battle rifle. "You four are with me. Stay low, steady bursts of fire. Pick your targets and kill when I say fire." Melanie and her small fire team stood and jumped out of the building. They jogged forward and stayed close to Melanie's side. She held out her palm, flat to the ground, and motioned down. They all dropped to their bellies and took aim with Battle Riffles. "Head shots, gentlemen. Focus on the Brutes. It'll take at least three hits to get through their helmets."
The Marines and Melanie were less then fifty yards away from the small pack and silently picked their targets. Melanie took aim and whispered over the COM, "Kill."
Several rounds escaped the barrels of the BR-55 battle rifles and split the heads of several Brutes. The other Brutes turned and began to growl in protest of the unknown attackers. Melanie stayed calm while the other Marines panicked and began to back away. They stood and retreated at the sight of the massive creatures turning towards them. Melanie, however, wasn't about to run. The Marines had done enough damage, she could handle the rest.
The last three brutes stampeded toward her. The first dropped as she easily put a few rounds into its skull. The second was a bit more of a challenge; its chaotic charge toward her made it harder to hit its head. The third Brute was almost on top of her so she quickly back peddled, but kept her rifle at eye level. The Brute stumbled across the ground where Melanie was laying and a perfectly timed grenade detonated beneath its feet. It roared in pain, but was quickly silenced by a perfectly fired three round burst. Melanie calmly reloaded and charged toward the pinned down marines. After clearing the last of the Covenant Allied Grunts, she raced to the building and dived inside. She was greeted by several magnum barrels.
She stood and addressed the men. "Red Squad, out of Camp Charley. Move your unit to our command bunker, one hundred yards East." The soldiers were exhausted and looked as though they had been running since the moment the ship crashed. She couldn't blame them for being a little disoriented. She quickly looked out of a window and pointed to where they needed to go. The men nodded and jogged exhaustingly toward the established command center. They were slow, and Melanie couldn't wait for them. She scanned the area for hostiles and sprinted ahead. She climbed back into her position as the Marines that had retreated from her side hunkered down; nervous that she was about to rip them a new hole.
She wanted to say something but these men and women were new recruits, and most hadn't seen combat. Most of the experienced vets were on the front line or dead.
She patted them on the shoulder and stood up. "Alright, I need you to scatter outside and began building a perimeter defense around the entrance door to the lower level of the camp. The door is sealed to prevent anyone from entering, and we'll be the guards that make sure nothing gets below." Melanie looked out of the window at the massive side crawling doors, made from solid ship-grade Titanium-A, which led to the lower levels of the camp. "I want gun turrets stationed all along that road, with barricades and trigger activated mines. Get up maggots, the core aint paying us by the hour!" The marines stood and began to move about the area, gathering stones, vehicles and anything else they could use to make barricades.
Meanwhile, Eric leveled his assault rifle and fired on the run. He mowed down a Brute that was attempting to reload its Brute shot while jackals calmly packed together in the distance. Eric took a knee as more marines filed into the garage. "Gas up the hogs! We'll need the speed! Leave the tanks for later!" Several marines stumbled from the darkness of the garage and joined into the resistance. Everywhere they went, dislocated marine fire teams would crawl from their hiding spots and join in on the battle. Camp Eden was crawling with human support, and the crashing Brute ship obviously did less damage to their morale then he thought.
Outside the garage, Brute piloted ghosts began to streak around the area as Palab eagle eyed the outer perimeter. "Ghosts!" He shouted as he stumbled back into the garage.
Several marines took aim at Palab but Eric reacted quickly. "Stand down! He's one of us!" Eric stood by his side and waved the Marines forward. He then spotted several Mongoose ATVs in the corner. "Perfect. Three ATVs, I need runners." Eric pointed out six marines. "Use your speed and provide cover. Everyone else, mount up on the hogs and let's clear the parade ground of hostiles."
"Sir, sniper rifles are in this crate." A marine shouted from a distant corner.
Eric turned to the marine. "Load them up in a transport hog, get them over to our command bunker. Get the best shooters onto the roof and start picking off Brutes. Do not fire on any Elites."
"Sir?" The marine questioned. "An alien is an alien, right? We have to fight for our own!"
Eric lowered his rifle and stood toe-to-toe with the insubordinate marine. "I don't like them any more then you do. But I won't turn my back to a helping hand. The Elites are here to help, and we can't win this alone."
"Yes Sir." The marine frowned. Palab heard the conversation and didn't understand what Eric meant by not liking the Elites. In Palab's eyes, Eric had always seemed fine with the Sangheili warriors, but perhaps there was more that he wasn't aware of.
"In coming!" A marine screamed. A ghost accelerated into the garage and the brute fired wildly into the packs of humans and vehicles. Palab jumped into the path of the speeding vehicle and the pounced on board as it streaked toward him.
"Traitorous Unggoy!" The Brute snarled. He began to steer frantically; attempting to shake off the tiny grunt. The marines in the garage ran toward the Ghost and took aim, ready to fire.
"Hold your fire!" Eric shouted. "He can handle this." Everyone was amazed at Eric's words. A lone Grunt against a Brute was not something to joke about. But they obeyed their orders. "Get those ATV's outside and finish prepping the gear!"
Palab clung to the front of the ghost, waiting for an opportunity. The Brute grew frustrated and raised his spike rifle but Palab was a step ahead of him. The tiny Grunt gripped the edge of the ghost's control panel, and pulled himself forward. He kicked the gun from the Brutes hand and planted his other hoof on its lap. He then jammed his long thumb claws through the Brute helmet's eye holes; embedding them into the roaring creature's eyes. Blood began to trickle down Palab's arms as the Brute grabbed him. Palab pulled his thumbs out, and extended his left elbow spike. With his right hand he removed the Brute's helmet, all while struggling to keep the creature's hands off of him, and then jammed his left spike into the exposed meaty tissue of its neck. The Brute gargled as he quickly bled-out from the trauma and Palab powered down the ghost. He kicked the Brute out of the ghost and turned to the marines.
"Honorable human. Me lead attack. Give time for vehicles to be loaded." Palab sat and waited for a reply as the Marines simply gazed in shock.
A dumbfounded marine questioned. "What the hell just happened?"
"Sergeant Palab just gave you an order, Private!" Eric snapped. "ATV teams, follow Palab's orders to the letter. Get those hogs out of here!" The three ATV rumbled to life. The driver straddled the ATV and throttled it while a secondary shooter clung to the rear. They all speed out of the garage behind Palab. As they sped ahead, a group of ghosts began to charge back at them.
A marine holding on to an ATV asked his driver. "How do we know which ghosts not to shoot?"
"Mate, if you see a Brute at the wheel, kill it!"
Eric and his hogs quickly pulled out of the garage a few moments later and made their way toward the bunker. Eric pulled his assault rifle close to his shoulder as his driver plowed toward the Jackals that had huddled out of range. He fired pulses toward them, knowing that it was useless; his rounds safely bounced off their shields. However, the jackals were so confused about the weapons fire that they didn't move from the warthog's path. All six hogs plowed into the Jackals, crushing them and purposefully chasing stragglers as they passed by.
Eric tapped his COM. "Palab, we are clear. Return to the Bunker."
"Me coming." Palab replied. He spun his ghost and fired into a Brute as it tossed a spike grenade toward him. The Brute was blown away by the super heated plasma but his grenade successfully stuck to the ghost. Palab rolled out of the seat as the weapon exploded; destroying the ghost and sending angled spikes into the opposite direction. He stood up and shook the shock from himself and waved toward a marine. "Retreat back to bunker!"
"Right!" The driver shouted. "What about you?"
"Me follow." Palab dashed out on all fours and sprinted toward the bunker.
The two marines on the ATV watched in amazement as the Grunt ran in a style that he didn't think Grunts could do. "What the hell? Did you know Grunts could do that?"
"Man, why are you asking me?" The gunner replied. "A grunt just gave me an order to retreat. I'm still trying to understand that!"
"Good point, mate." The driver replied. He turned the ATV and streaked toward the bunker as the other two ATV's followed. They quickly passed Palab as the Grunt Messiah moved as fast as he could to the area where the honorable human had established command. As he approached the bunker he smelled something familiar and he slowed down. He stood and looked back as two bloodied Sangheili's struggled to free themselves from a crashed escape pod.
"Honorable human! Me find Lieutenant Simyaldee!"
- - - - - - - -
The warthog transport pulled into the command bunker as hundreds of marines began to solidify the defenses around the main gate to the lower levels. Sniper rounds echoed on the upper levels of the building as Eric and Palab assisted Simyaldee and Gridolee out of the truck. Simyaldee could barely support himself; his wounds were severe. Gridolee was exhausted but not in any immediate danger from his wounds. The marines near the parked hogs watched in amazement as Eric shouldered Simyaldee's arms and guided him into the building, while Palab and Gridolee followed.
Melanie approached. "Defenses are coming up nicely. I've fortified the area, protecting that door is our main priority."
"Any COM traffic from inside the base?" Eric asked.
"None yet, but I'm sure they are on radio silence."
Eric laid Simyaldee in a corner of the lower level stairwell and turned to Melanie. "Get something big and heavy and start banging on the door, use Mors code. Let them know we're human."
"On it." Melanie looked down at Simyaldee as the wounded warrior struggled to stay conscious. "Is he going to make it?"
Eric looked down at him as he examined the wounds. "I don't know." Melanie walked out. Eric turned to Palab. "Contact the Elder, tell him that we need a field medic inside the camp, now."
"We no have field medics." Palab replied. "Sangheili only train in healing themselves."
"Basic field kit knowledge." Eric frowned. Like the average marine, the Sangheili were also only trained in personal medical kit basics, but Simyaldee was well beyond that, and they did not have a medic in their squad. He needed surgery, badly. "Contact him and tell him the situation. And advise him on our location." Palab nodded and powered on his COM. Eric turned back to Simyaldee. "Stay awake."
"I am … aware of that." Simyaldee slurred.
"Did this happen in the crash, or were you jumped by a gang of Brutes?"
"No. It was … a Sharquoi."
Eric paused in shock. He took off his helmet and wiped his brow. His eyes were stretched wide ike he had seen a ghost.
"A Sharquoi? A Sharguoi did this to you? The Brutes have them?"
"I am afraid so." Simyaldee coughed. "Do not fear. It is dead."
"Yeah, but if they have one, I'm sure they have more." Eric sat back against the wall. "Palab, did you get through to the Elder?"
"He coming. He say troops are at gate now."
"Take some marines and meet him." Eric ordered.
"Me hurry." Palab waddled out of the building and signaled for several marines to follow.
"Sir, the Brutes are rallying their numbers on the western side of the parade grounds." A marine shouted from a few floors up.
Eric stood and pulled on his helmet. "Gridolee, watch him. Make sure he stays awake."
Gridolee leaned against the wall and held his wounds. "I will. Honorable Human… Sergeant Raynord. I have something for you." Gridolee unclipped a brute satchel from his belt and handed it to Eric.
"What is it?" The bag was covered in blood.
"I promised you that the next time we meet, I would bring an offering of peace between you and my family."
Eric smiled from behind his helmet as he instantly recalled the discussion. "The head of Prophet." Eric opened it and palmed the football sized object. There was very little blood thanks partially to the searing heat of the Mirratord blade, and the sheer terror in the Prophet's eyes almost made Eric want to laugh. Some would have found the display sickening, but Eric embraced the raw ancestral gesture. "Thanks. I'll be sure to mount it on my trophy case."
Eric placed it back in the bag and put it on a pile of supplies. "Marines form up on me. We need to push those Brutes back."
- - - - - - - -
Ark Excavation site // Mombasa observatory
ONI Facility Bravo A-11092G: The Gatekeeper
November 3, 2552
Several hours later.
The Colonel stood as the screen flashed to life. The static filled image of a man in an all white uniform appeared on screen.
"Rear Admiral…" The colonel began to speak.
"Ackerson?" The admiral sternly cut in. "What the hell are you doing there? Where is Major Rawlings?"
"We don't know Sir." The young Private spoke.
The static image of the man was silent for a moment as he examined a data pad. "You must be Private Wesley Williams. When were you pulled off of Red Squad? You were ordered to stay with the Black Ops."
"Major Rawlings reassigned me, Rear Admiral."
The Admiral sighed. "Very well. All present, do you conquer with the decision of HighCOM and UNSCDF's proposal for an all conditions surrender to the Covenant?"
"No." Wesley stated.
"No." Ackerson added.
"No." The Admiral stated.
"No." Several other voices on the screen agreed."
The Rear Admiral sighed deeply. "Without confirmation from Admiral Hood, we still stand at four of five votes."
"Just five, sir?" Wesley questioned.
"Most of the Brass was hit pretty hard. The Brutes broke into HighCOM two hours ago. We lost a lot of good officers today. We are all that's left."
The room fell silent but then a voice stated from the video feed background. "I have made contact, Sir."
"Put that bastard on the screen."
The rear admiral looked up on his display as Wesley turned on his display to the same channel. The image quickly presented itself as the Prophet of Truth glared downward at a low sitting camera. He made himself appear larger then he already was, his red robe and elaborate headdress merely adding to his confident gloat.
"Hello humans." Truth smoothly spoke in human tongue. "I find this most awkward that you would seek an audience with me. But I will listen to your words if only to amuse my troops."
"Truth, my name is Rear Admiral Rich, and we, along with the human forces around the world, have decided that we will not surrender to your occupation forces. We will fight to the very end."
Truth seemed puzzled as he tilted his head in thought. "Forgive me, human, but I do not recall every offering you a chance to surrender. The glory of the Covenant has overwhelmed your planet in four days. We have found the sacred artifact of our Gods, and as we speak, my ships are removing from the tainted soil that you humans walk upon. Any decision you make are for nothing. You will pay for your crimes against the Gods. By the mighty hands of the Covenant you shall all be wiped from the face of the galaxy."
Admiral Rich spoke up. "We will not roll over so easily, Truth! Soon, even your forces will understand that you are a maniacal made man! The Elites have already learned of your lies, and soon the rest of the Covenant will know."
"The Elites were merely our lapdogs. As they have been since the time of the Forerunners. Keep them. We will crush them as well as you. You will not stop the Great Journey, humans. You will be consumed by it."
"We will stop you."
"There is not one amongst you that would dare to approach me. Not one! None of you humans can resist the power of the Covenant. You have lost. Hide all you want. Stay buried in your small caves. I do not fear your HighCOM or what ships remain in orbit. You are defeated. You have lost. And the Great Journey is near!" The screen faded and Truth rubbed sat in thought. He turned to his Brute Guards and marveled at the awesome power of his army.
"Your holiness." A brute captain spoke. "We have confirmed that the Prophet of Signs ship has crashed."
"Was the Tree of Life found?"
"Records indicate that they were very close to finding it. The last course placed them directly over the Tree of Life's possible location."
"Then the humans have established a worthy defensive over it." Truth thought to himself. "Very well. Send seven of our rear guard ships to the crash sight; a full attack wave. When the Tree of Life is secure, destroy it."
"Destroy it?" The Brute Captain questioned in surprise. "It is a sacred artifact…."
"Yes, but an artifact that has been tainted by the humans. Trust my words, Captain. Nothing good will come of something that has been tainted by the humans." The Brute Captain bowed as he returned to his post.
Truth folded his hands across his face, covering his mouth, and he smiled.
To be continued.