1724, September 11th, 2547 [MILITARY CALENDAR]/Colonist planet[TUNGSTEN II], local water treatment plant
One thought runs through my mind once I realize my situation. And it's very primitive. Survival.
Fortunately, most of the enemies are situated near the mainframe and the rear consoles so I have time to bring up the door/shield just as an overcharged plasma shot races towards me and makes my arms recoil against my chest.
They open fire relentlessly and soon enough, my shield is melted and I'm unable to use it further. I then take out my pistol and empty the mag and slam another in. I have to commend myself for holding out as long as I did. I have no cover and nothing to help me fight. I only lasted as long as my pistol did. But once those Elites swarmed me, it was over.
It was close-combat from the time I ran out of bullets. They never gave me time to reach for my Energy Sword, though.
Three Elites in blue armor surround me and they begin fighting, but not daring to use their bullets. One swipes his Plasma pistol and smacks me in the helmet. While the blow is brutal, and I see stars, I don't go down. Instead I return the hit with a fist to his gut. I had gathered a small amount of momentum and I'm delighted to see purple alien blood spurt out of its mouth. My instincts scream at me to turn around and once I do, I can only duck as an arm goes sailing over my head. I take a step back to steady myself but my heel hits the wall.
"You want a fight? I'll kill all of you!" I roar defiantly. But at this point it's the dying words of a dead Spartan. There's no way I can fight off ten Elites. Nevermind the rest of the Covenant aliens standing behind them. I can only go out with a bang like the soldier I am.
I grab the neck of an Elite and slam its head into the ground. I jump over its back and jam my foot under the mouth of another. My fists and feet are a blur as I go into a whirlwind of attacks. But no matter how hard I fight, I am overwhelmed. An elite in Orange armor and a horned helmet breaks through the crowd. I hadn't expected him and he grabs me by the throat. His fingers are like a vice as he throws me onto the ground and holds me there. Saliva drips from his mandibles as he snarls viciously. I am trying to free myself but my limbs only flail helplessly.
You know...I had imagined my death to be a lot more heroic than this. Cornered and taken down in a single room without even my team to watch me go. How stupid.
You never think it will happen like it does. You might imagine yourself being blown up in a heoric flash of glory, or go down saluting in a pelican. But in the end, you're on the ground being suffocated by a merciless enemy with an iron grip. It's not fair.
My vision had just blacked out when I vaguely hear an order being snapped. Something smacks into the arm holding me and air floods into my lungs, reinflating them painfully. I suck in the oxygen like the lifeline it is.
The crowd of Elites around me suddenly disperses and now I can hear a nearby voice sounding very angry and coming closer. As I look towards it, I realize it's another Elite in Maroon armor. A Zealot. It wields an Energy Sword and is standing and glaring at the other Elites. My temporary savior turns to me and grabs my chestplate and pulls me to my feet.
I can only watch in confused silence as the newcomer lectures the others in their foreign language. By the way the aliens hang their heads and avoid his gaze, I'm assuming they did something bad. But I can't imagine what that is since they're trained to hate my guts.
Suddenly, the Elite stops talking and turns to me. His Energy Sword is still alive and, by the way he turns, I know that he isn't being kind. "Heretic," the Elite growls. "You are a heretic. Doomed by the Prophets because you defiled sacred Forerunner relics. I should have let them kill you. But that in itself would be heresy. The Prophets have requested your capture, demon. And I will not be the one to defy them."
His almost flawless english shocks the living hell out of me, and his words are just plain confusing. I had heard of their leaders, or "Prophets", and they just seemed like a bunch of stupid, old, and disgusting aliens. And I had heard of the Forerunners, precursors to the universe. But they had disappeared many years ago. Why the hell would these morons worship them?
But I don't have much time to dwell on it as the Elite orders a Jackal to bring him something. The Jackal produces energy cuffs which bind my wrists tightly. "Nice and comfortable," I growl.
The aliens shove me to the back of the room behind the mainframe. I am issued a handful of guards, but they are only Grunts. I find that a little strange but shrug it off as ignorance. "Hey, split-face. What are you waiting for?" I ask the Elite that had "rescued" me. He turns to me, striding in his weird gait. He then kicks me in the guts and I fall over, grunting and trying to not cough. "You do not speak unless spoken to, Demon!" he snarls. "Ah... You should see someone about that temper," I say, getting back up to my knees.
While we wait for whatever we are waiting for, I assess the situation. The open hole where the door used to be is guarded by several Jackals holding Needle Rifles and Needlers. The Zealot is walking around the room and talking to the different Elites. The Grunts sit around lazily, not paying much attention to anything but themselves.
At one point, my private COM channel crackles to life and a voice floods through. I have to turn it down to avoid being noticed. "...are you...there?" The voice coming through the static sounds worried yet professional. "This is Jackson-332," I whisper. The signal becomes clearer once I respond. "Jackson! Where the hell are you? Paller said you had disappeared after the lights went out," Arnold asks. "I've been captured by the Covenant in the control room. I can't talk for long but-" I'm cut off as soon as the Zealot realizes what had been going on. He had snuck up on me and suddenly kicks me in the back, making he launch forwards and land on my stomach. "Be quiet!" he snaps. "Shove it up...where the sun...don't shine," I grunt as I pull myself back to my knees (which is hard to do without using your hands). The Elite makes a chuffing noise and walks away. To keep from being discovered, I cut the channel without saying anything else.
It takes a while before my team shows up. But when they do, they are quick and quiet which makes me proud.
The lights suddenly go out, plunging the room into near-total darkness. The glow from the consoles and the Covenant's weapons are the only source of light. There's a brief moment of confusion before I hear the clink of a grenade dropping into the room. I look towards the sound and instantly regret it because a flashbang goes off, followed by a smoke bomb.
While my eyes are trying to recover from the sudden blinding light, the room erupts into a whirlwind of chaos. I hear the unmistakable sound of a DMR's subautomatic shots going off one-by-one in deadly rthym. The DMR is followed by quick bursts from an Assault Rifle, which is in turn followed by the drone of an SMG.
"Parkson, the Zealot and his men ran! He's heading for the generator rooms. Take Arnold and Kia and get after him," 211 shouts. "Fan out," I hear Zeke say.
The familiar clanking of boots fills the room after the dying screams and roars of the Covenant aliens dies out. One by one, each Spartan calls clear and several helmet lights fill the room, illuminating the massacre scene. Dead Grunts lay where they fell. A few of the Jackals hadn't made it out and lay in their own blood pools. Two of the Elites were killed in the initial attack and lay sprawled out near the mainframe, still clutching their weapons.
A light sweeps over me and I clench my eyes shut against it. "I've got him!" Jessica calls, looking over her shoulder. Another Spartan approaches and his helmet light turns off once he crouches down and begins to work on the plasma-cuffs. "Took you guys long enough," I joke. "Covies didn't want us at their tea party, you know how it is," 211 says. Once the cuffs shut off I bring my arms forward and rub my wrists. "They give you any trouble?" Zeke asks. "Just the usual," I reply and take 211's offered hand to stand up. I hadn't expected the pain in my abdomen and falter a little, forcing 211 to grab me to keep me from falling. "Ow," I grunt, straightening myself out. "Seems like they gave you the deluxe treatment," 211 says.
Arnold suddenly shouts over at us, making us all look at him. "I've got an alive Elite over here!" Zeke is the first to reach him and he turns on his headlamp. I make my way over as well, forcing myself to ignore the pain and walk straight without a limp or slouch.
Zeke pulls a gun and points it at the Elite's head who snarls in defiance. Looking past its four fingered hand, I can see he had been a victim of friendly fire confusion. Plasma burns pepper his abdomen and legs. Plus a few human bullets are stuck in him as well. "He'll live," Jessica says. She has studied in Elite (or "Sangheili, as she keeps reminding us) and has been our interpreter for the past few years. She understands it surprisingly well and uses her skills alongside her interrogation profession.
"Ask him what their goal is here," Zeke says, not taking his gaze away from the Elite. Jessica repeats the question to the Elite who then glares at her like she had just spat on him. The alien then replies, not sounding happy. I can see Jessica almost sigh, but then she removes her helmet and holds it next to her. The Elite snarls again and says something, which she then replies to. "What's he saying?" Zeke asks. "He wants to know why a woman of our species fights. I told him because it's how we are. Their women mainly stay on their home planet and take care of the children and their homes," Jessica explains. Jessica turns back to the Elite and repeats her earlier statement, in which the alien only starts laughing. He barks out a few words and laughs again. Jessica's features sour and she suddenly jams a finger into one of his wounds, making his laughter turn into screams of pain. She repeats her question from before, giving the Elite time to calm down. "You might want to go help the others with their fight. This might take me a while," she says, glancing back at us.
"I'll go help the others," I offer. Zeke jerks his chin at Jacobs who nods. "211, you stay here and keep watch," I say. "Copy that," he replies and readies his weapon again. Before we leave, Zeke reaches down and picks up a Plasma Rifle from the ground. "Here," he says and throws it to me. "I see they disarmed you." In fact, they had. They took my Assault Rifle and Pistol and I don't know what they did with it. Which really pisses me off. But with my luck, they had thankfully left Hokai's knife alone.
I take the gun and, after checking its charge, leave with Jacobs to help the other Spartans.
We need only follow the sounds of the firefight to quickly find where our teammates went to. I'm nearly struck by a plasma grenade as I round a corner. As it is, the damned thing drops my shields before I can react. "Watch it, they're hair triggered," Arnold warns. I move up around the wall and crouch behind a Covenant barricade. "Got them cornered?" I ask after taking a quick peek. "Got that right. I've never seen them fight so hard," he replies. "So. Any brilliant ideas how we're going to go through with this?" His helmet is scuffed with old dirt and has a deep scratch gouge, hinting at what happened to their Falcon.
I look over the barricade again at the enemy filled hallway. Making a charge would be suicide. There's no way we can move up without being cut down, so setting up explosives is out of the question. I get safely back into cover and suddenly remember the layout. "Parkson, the layout that the locals gave us. Look and see if it has an emergency access tunnel," I tell him. He drops out of the firing line and brings up the blueprints in his HUD. A moment later, he touches my arm and jerks his chin behind us. "Arnold, come with us. Kia, keep them scared," I order. "Who made you boss?" Arnold says jokingly, but follows me anyways.
Parkson backtracks through the hallway and finally stops at a metal door with a small glass window set near the top. He opens it and nods inside. He signs a few simple gestures which I had learned and I translate it for Arnold. "To get behind these guys, you'll need to take the first left and go straight for a few yards. Take the first right afterwards and keep going straight again and then take the next left. And once you come to the first right, it'll take you straight to the access hatch that will hopefully be right behind the enemies' backs," I say. "Hopefully?" Arnold repeats and shakes his head. "If you get me killed, Zeke is going to have your ass. And I mean that literally!" he says and enters the tunnel, illuminating it with his headlamp. Parkson shuts the door and gestures for me to take the lead.
Once we come back, Kia had just switched to her Magnum and looked beaten. "I don't know if they know your plan, but they suddenly started fighting a whole lot harder. We need to take them out before they get any ballsier," Kia says. "Arnold's working on it. Once he gives the word, we will need to give him covering fire to keep him from being overwhelmed. I don't know what he has planned, but I trust him," I say. "I should be the one trusting him. I am the one who gets stuck with him," 211 says from behind us. I look behind to see him running up, weapon up and ready. "Weren't you supposed to be helping guard?" I ask him. He goes quiet for a few moments before snapping out of whatever he was thinking of. "Jacobs let me off," he answers. "How's that information coming from the Elite?" I ask, looking away from him to discharge a few bullets. "Jessica is good at what she does," he says simply.
"Incoming suiciders!" Kia shouts. She pops out of cover and drops two of the Grunts with very well-placed shots. I admire her acuracy, I really do. It's saved us on more than one occasion. I wonder if she'd make a good sharpshooter...
The Jackals give the last three suiciders covering fire and they get dangerously close before 211 takes them down. The explosions rattle our barricades and the armoring of mine pops off and smacks my shin hard, giving the armor a few good scratches. "I'm going to have to get this re-upholstered again," I say in annoyance. "The Military's got it covered. They just love doing that. It is part of their job after all," 211 jokes.
"Arnold, what's your progress?" I ask the Spartan. "Almost there. These tunnels are way too long," he says. "When I get there, I'm going Chameleon. I'll get around and take out the biggest ass I can find. Even if it's a hunter. Once I give the order, come in with all you have. I don't want to die trying to be the hero." The term "going Chameleon" is something that Fireteam Zeta uses meaning that they'll use the camoflauge from their armor and sneak up behind a target. I'm not too sure what a Chameleon is, but I think it has something to do with camoflauge, or else they wouldn't use the term. Probably not, anyways.
Right before Arnold reaches his destination, an Elite decides to charge us. His energy sword flashes and he roars as he flies down the hallway, followed by a covering barrage of plasma bullets.
"I'm not getting gutted by an Elite!" 211 snarls. He suddenly jumps out of cover and meets the Sangheili head-on. The Elite's sword slashes right for 211 but he stops it with his own weapon. After the weapon is cut in half, 211 throws himself into the Elite and wraps his arms around its waist. The two go down just as Arnold opens fire on the other end. "Help would be nice!" Arnold calls. A hunter's roar carries over the sudden shift in directional fire and the walls shudder as its arm slams into the ground. I get out from behind cover and dodge the flashing Energy Sword. I then take a grenade from my belt and chuck it over the barricades. The frag lands right in behind three jackals with shields. They don't have time to duck before they are killed and thrown into the walls. The blast doesn't distract the Hunter and it continues to try and kill Arnold.
"You call that a distraction? Who taught you to be Spartans?!" Arnold exclaims. I watch as he rolls to a knee and empties his clip into its vital spots. Orange goo splatters the ground and walls and almost looks as if its glowing. "You did!" I yell back. I run and slide in between two Grunts. Their surprised squeals are cut short as my knife cuts into their throats.
Parkson runs ahead of me and jumps high into the air and gracefully lands on the back of an Elite. The sheer weight of the drop makes the alien collapse, allowing Parkson to take hold of its skull and snap its neck.
Out of nowhere, 211 charges past both of us and comes right up behind the Hunter. He stabs a glowing Energy Sword right into its back. It goes up to the hilt and the Hunter quickly turns on 211. "That didn't kill you?!" 211 demands angrily. He launches himself off of his heel and rolls away from its shield. "Just die!"
Arnold gets behind it and grabs the hilt of the sword as he passes. "One more time," he says. He takes a few steps back and he suddenly flickers out of existence. The Hunter roars in angered confusion and begins spinning around. But it suddenly freezes, gives a strangled cry, and collapses. The Sword sticks out of its stomach, sizzling menacingly. Arnold reappears and pulls out the sword. He looks at us staring at him and steps off of the dead giant. "What?" He asks, shrugging. "Showoff," 211 says, wiping his hands off on his black underarmor.
I look over my shoulder and assess the damage. Toppled barricades, dead aliens, and living teammates. Kia had just finished off the last alien and is beginning to double-tap the bodies. And much to my dissapointment, the maroon armored Zealot lays dead without me having killed him. "Job well done, eh?" Arnold says. "Don't settle down yet. We still need to know why they were here," Kia says. "Isn't that obvious? They're Covenant. Invading and killing is what they do best," 211 says, checking his weapons before stowing them. "There's a hidden meaning, Spartan. Just think about it. On every op we've ever done, there was always something we found out," I say. "Three months ago, the Covies were about to make the reactor go into meltdown near a few major colonist cities. We were called because of strange COM activites and look at what we found. Just last month, Jackal raiders took down a barge using a stealth attack. They boarded before the Cole protocol could be used and almost got their nav data. We were headed to a recon and found the attack."
Kia nods, clearly understanding. "They always have a reason," she clarifies. "Something to do with water. No doubt about that," 211 says. Parkson taps my shoulder and points back down the hallway. He then signs to Kia who nods and turns to me. "We need to get back to the others. Our job here is done," Kia says. "Alright. Lets move it," I say and take the lead back to the main control room.
We arrive just as Jessica stabs her searing hot combat knife into the Elite's slumped hand. It lets out an agonized scream and tries to pull away, but is pinned by the imbedded blade.
Wincing, I look away to Zeke whom is leaning against the mainframe, stoicly looking at the show. "How's it coming?" I ask him. He looks up and stands fully. "He's opening up. Spitting out religious trash about 'the Path'. But Jessy has him. It's just a matter of time at this point," the squad leader answers. "What've you learned?" Arnold asks. "That their ship isn't on a specific mission. They came out here looking for resources to pillage. Saw that there were humans here and did what any good Covenant slave would do. Still don't know what they want with the plant in specific," Zeke answers and looks at the Elite. "but he'll tell us soon."
It takes another hour and a half until the Elite finally speaks again. Jessica had left him alone for about fourty minutes, letting his mind clear. Once Jessica returns to question him, he doesn't resist.
Jessica stops a few minutes later and I can see that the Elite isn't happy with his decision. "Do we know now?" Zeke asks, approaching her. All of us turn our attention towards her and she nods. "They were going to poison the water supply. We got inside just as they were beginning to apply the poison," Jessica says. "Good way to take out your enemies. Ruin something that they can't live without," 211 says grimly. "We got them stopped, right?" I ask. Jessica nods and gestures to the dead bodies. "You did, Jackson. Getting captured and everything," she adds with a chuckle. I frown but shake my head to refocus. "So, what's going to happen to him?" I look at the Elite who is hanging his head. "We release him," Jessica says. 211 looks astonished. "What? Release him so he can shoot us in the back? Don't you think that's a bit risky?" he asks. Jessica shakes her head and glances back at the alien. "He'll commit suicide as soon as he's far enough away from us. It's the honorable thing to do. But if he doesn't and returns to his ship, his entire clan will be dishonored and possibly killed. I don't know if he will want to risk that," she says. "That's kind of...grisly. All of that for just giving up information?" I say. "For being captured. 'Death before dishonor', It's basically what the Sangheili live on," Jessica says.
Jacobs had left to check on the situation outside and he suddenly reports back, talking fast and loud. "Guys, you've got to come here. We are in a shit-ton of trouble."