WARNING!
This story contains content not suited for younger readers, such as Violence, Blood and Gore, Language, and Explicit Sexual Content. This Chapter's Rating will be placed at T-Rated. Future Chapters may, and most likely, will switch back and forth between the T and M ratings.
Regardless, Reader Discretion for this Chapter is advised.
I don't own Halo or Naruto.
Bold-My Own Words
Bold & Italic-Locations, Time & Calendar
Normal-Narrative
"Normal"-Person Speaking
'Normal'-Thoughts
"Italic"-Foreign Language
'Italic'-Radio Chatter
/Italic\-AI/Computer typing
Prologue Arc-Episode 16
-Expedition: Visok Pt. 3-
(Part 16)
January 7, 2544 UNSC Military Calendar
Visok Evacuation Fleet in Slipspace Transit
Destination: Alpha Imura System, Approximately 7 Light Years from Visok
Expected Arrival Time: 5 weeks +/- 3 days
URF Thunder Child
Despite being onboard the ship for several weeks, this was the first time Barnes had ever seen Rebecca's quarters. He'd raided a few Innie ships in his time as an ODST and found most of them like to decorate their rooms extravagantly. Everything from private bars to armories stocked with enough equipment to outfit a marine platoon, to even one rebel frigate captain having a full-sized replicant casting of Auguste Rodin's The Thinker, with a pedestal and all, decorating the foot of her bed. (He'll never know how those Innies managed to get that wide-ass statue through all those hallways and doors leading to the captain's quarters.) Regardless of who they are, many URF and Innie commanders tend to indulge slightly or extravagantly whenever they ever assume a position of power or significance. Not that UNSC commanders can't be just as bad, the only difference being that there are military regulations that keep them from going too crazy with the flaunting and showing off. It's almost like they can't help themselves from showing off just how important and influential they are in their little corner of the universe. (Even Cole had been a bit of a victim of it, as evident by the massive portrait of Clarkson Stanfield's Battle of Trafalgar hanging in his quarters on Everest, though that could be just Cole's personal hobby of being a Napoleonic Wars enthusiast creeping out.)
To his surprise, Rebecca's room was relatively modest by comparison. A small table and kitchen set up for eating her meals, and a rather large bookshelf containing several volumes of books, including what had to have been every single book ever written by Jules Verne and H.G. Wells. A small work desk topped with several folders and a personal computer. A private bathroom and closet for clothing were visible, too. Hanging neatly in a frame over her bed, the only thing in the room that stood out was the portrait she had chosen.
"Liberty Leading the People, huh?" Barnes inquired, staring up at the famous painting as he slowly walked forward, "You know, no joke? This is probably the tenth time I've seen that painting in some Insurrectionist Holdout or Ship. Kinda wonder what ol' Delacroix would think knowing his painting about a revolution was so popular with a group of revolutionaries."
"I'm sure you've been to enough Insurrectionist holdouts and ships to figure out why." Barnes was going to retort but thought better of it as he watched the ship captain slowly rearrange things on her work desk. For several moments, she paid none of the three men standing before her any mind as she sorted and cleaned the top of her work desk. It was only after a few moments of watching this that Barnes noticed the air was lightly scented, the smell of coconut perforating his nostrils. Scented candle, probably, though he didn't see one around the room. He glanced cautiously at the two rumbledrug users, weary of any sign they wanted to continue the little 'duel' from earlier. The one with the mustache, Desiderio, had an icepack on his jaw where Barnes had fractured (not broken as he'd initially thought.) his jawbone. Aside from that, he was fine. Hell, he hadn't even complained once about his injury during the entire walk. 'Might be a weird bastard, but credit where credit's due. He's a tough weird bastard.' Barnes thought with some discomfort, not looking forward to the idea of fighting any of those three again. He'd come to learn that the three massive warriors were, in fact, old friends of Lyrenne Castilla. (In fact, they're all in their late 40s physically, though they don't look it.) Former special forces soldiers that defected and, once the existence of the Spartans had been confirmed, began investing in rumbledrug and steroid use to perfect their bodies for combat should the Spartans ever come after Lyrenne or her daughter. Ultimately this never happened, and as the young Rebecca grew into a young woman, they became surrogate brothers and bodyguards for the young Cole. Even despite their weird quirks and personalities (which Barnes summed up to some sort of side effects of the drugs.), they were fiercely loyal and defensive of their young captain.
Removing a few files from the tabletop revealed a novel on her desk, namely its author. "George Orwell, huh?" Barnes asked, catching the captain's attention, "Lemme guess. 1984?"
Pulling up the book from underneath the stack of files, Rebecca reveals, "A Clergyman's Daughter, actually. Most people tend to forget that he wrote more than one book."
"In all fairness, 1984 is the only one of his books ever discussed."
"And probably his most gloomy and cynical book about human nature." Rebecca scoffed, "After reading most of his books, I think I can say he's a bit overrated as a writer."
"Hm." Barnes replied nonchalantly, "First time I've heard someone say that. But we're not here to talk about authors from 600 years ago," He followed up, stepping forward a few steps, the two massive rumbler guardians watching for the slightest sign of treachery from the ODST, "We're here to talk about what happened in the mess hall and, frankly, the multitude of fights that have broken out since we were forced to bunk up together for this magical little adventure we're going on."
Rebecca stopped arranging her file, looking straight into his eyes as she slowly placed the files in her hands and sat at her desk. She seemed to be staring into his soul as she quietly observed him, a scowl adorning her face. He thought for a moment that a woman with such a stunning face shouldn't be scowling so much, but this wasn't the time or place. (And he had no interest in flirting with a woman who would likely kill him.)
"So... who started it this time?" Rebecca asked.
Before the shock trooper could respond, he was surprised by Desiderio beating him to it and his choice of words, "I must admit, Rebbie, it looks like our boys and girls started this one."
"Brother!" Karson protested, but the massive rumbler continued unabated. "Apparently, from what I've heard from a handful of the crew that were present before we arrived, Emilio, the new technician for the maintenance team, walked past one of the Colonel's soldiers. The polite little African woman. Damn, what's her name?" Desiderio looked over at the Colonel in a silent question.
"Armstrong," Barnes answered suspiciously, wondering why the hell an Innie was openly selling out his own when he would have gained so much more by blaming the ODST. "Lydia Armstrong."
"That's right, myes. Well, Emilio supposedly walked by and bumped rather harshly into Ms. Armstrong. Words were exchanged, tempers flared, and supposedly the fight erupted after Emilio called Ms. Armstrong a Government Issued... Mayate." Desiderio resumed, hesitating only at the end as if unwilling to say the word. Rebecca stared at him for a moment, knowing Spanish very well, and knew what the word meant. She exasperatedly threw her hands up, "Are you fucking kidding me?!" Rebecca leaned back in her seat, pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation.
"What? Surprised? Don't tell me you're one of those who actually believe the UEG's spill about modern-day society?" Barnes inquired with a raised eyebrow, mockingly commenting on the UEG's long-standing claim that humanity had long since abandoned the bigotries and prejudices of the past.' (As any everyday citizen who wasn't uber-rich and privileged would tell you, this was absolute bullshit. Sure, it's nowhere near as bad as, say, the 20th and 21st centuries, but prejudice of all kinds; racial, religious, cultural, even social and economic; were all still alive and well in 26th-century Human Civilization.)
Rebecca was about to open her mouth in protest, but Leon quickly cut her off, stating calmly but firmly, "Your crew started this fight, something that your own musclehead super soldiers over here confirmed. I know some of my soldiers went overboard, and I'll deal with them accordingly, but these fights have got to stop."
"You think I haven't been trying to avoid that?!" Rebecca snapped angrily. "Every day, I have to hear about some little grip or complaint from my crew about your soldiers over every little thing. Not that your thugs are helping the situation any. It's not my fault I've got 100 helljumpers walking around like they're surrounded by trash!"
"Well, what goes around comes around, Lil' Rebbie Reb." Barnes shot back, knowing the young insurrectionist captain hated hearing his little nickname for her. "Ever since we came on board, your people have been treating mine like they're either mangy mutts or nuclear reactors. The Chernobyl kind."
"What the hell is a Chernobyl?! And fuck you for creating that stupid nickname! You've even got my own crew calling me that!"
"Mhehehe. To be fair, it is an adorable nickname, myes-"
"Desiderio."
"Yes, my sweet little captain?"
"Shut the hell up. Captain's orders."
Barnes heard the captain's massive guardian giggling quietly as Rebecca glared at him, while Karson chuckled softly next to Desiderio. "Anyway," She growled out, "I know the crews are at each other's throats, but it doesn't help matters when your soldiers go around instigating shit."
"I could say the same." Barnes countered, "May come as a crazy surprise, but most people aren't fans of being called racial slurs. Even if it's in another language."
"I will deal with Emilio," The rebel captain swore, "but you must get your soldiers under control, too. Or are you about to tell me your soldier Parker didn't put two of my men into the Medbay a week ago?" Barnes suppressed a scowl, knowing full well that Rebecca wasn't wrong. Robert, despite his usually steadfast levelheadedness, had an immense hatred of the URF and was not a fan of being stuck onboard a ship full of them. Given his history with the Insurrection, it wasn't a surprise how much he despised the Insurrection. He supposed he should be thanking his lucky stars that Rhineford wasn't causing issues, either, given his own grudges against the URF. Not many people who survived a hospital massacre as a child come out as well adjusted as that boy did.
"No, but my soldiers are also not starting most of the fights. Something your crew seems to have no problem instigating." Barnes slowly countered, "So perhaps we both need to get our people reined in."
God, he could for a drink right now.
Meanwhile...
The mess hall was... well, a mess after the fight that had broken out. Combatants from both sides were cleaning up on their respective sides of the cafeteria and tending to their wounded. Rhineford was still baffled at how so much carnage could befall a room from just a few minutes of fighting. In reality, the fight had lasted the better part of 10 minutes, but for Rhineford, it had only felt like it'd lasted moments. The events played out so quickly that they all seemed to merge in his memories. The bruise on his face still stung from earlier, even with the ice pack easing up the swelling, but the Innie bitch who'd struck him with a metal tray was now laid out cold on a table nearby. Even with her face looking like a punching bag, she was lucky he hadn't chosen to cave her skull in.
It was a miracle that no one had been killed in the fight. Just dozens of battered bodies and broken bones. Every time a fight breaks out, he half expects someone to finally pull out a gun or a knife and cause all hell to break loose. When the rebel captain fired her pistol, he'd been certain it had finally come. But again, order had been restored, and a crisis had been nipped in the bud.
Back to everyone eyeballing the other, wondering if they're going to get jumped again.
This was stupid. This whole damn thing. It was understandable why their leadership had assigned them aboard this vessel, but you can't become friends with people who hate you and want you dead. They should have never come onboard this Innie Ship. It would only be a matter of time before some massive firefight broke out on the ship. Then this stupid alliance between the URF and the ex-UNSC would fall apart. A part of Rhineford was somewhat hopeful that it would come to that. While many had reasons to hate the URF, Rhineford vehemently hated the URF and everything it represented.
And for what it had taken from him.
But the more pragmatic part of his mind knew that wasn't the best thing for everyone involved. If they wanted the Aquarii Star Cluster to survive, let alone thrive, then eventually, everyone was going to have to put their past grievances and grudges aside. But how can you do that with people who hate you and everything you represent?
"Putains de salauds rebelled." He heard a familiar voice say to him, looking over to see Simon Peltier tending to the head injuries on an unconscious Lydia Armstrong. The poor woman had gotten even with the Innie Bastard, who'd picked the fight with her, but almost as soon as she took him down, she was jumped by nearly a half dozen of the Innie's friends. Even for a highly trained Helljumper like her, such odds would have been damn near impossible to overcome. By the time the three of them had fought their way to her, the innies had beaten her to a bloody pulp in their beatdown. Not one of the bastards responsible had walked away from that without some broken bones. Parker, Peltier, and himself had made sure of it. But almost everyone involved in the massive brawl had been battered or hurt to some regard. And then there had been those three giant Innie Soldiers...
The thought of fighting any one of those three had made Rhineford shudder. How the Colonel was able to hold off all three of them, let alone take one down, was beyond him.
"She gonna be alright?" Rhineford asked, cautiously looking back at the trio before returning his gaze back to the marauding Innies in the mess hall. He heard Robert answer from behind, "A few fractures, but aside from that and some severe bruising, it's mostly gonna be her pride that's hurt. Nothing that won't heal in the medbay." Rhineford sighed at this, relieved that Lydia's injuries weren't as bad as they looked.
"She got off easy, compared to most." Their platoon sergeant, SSgt Jackson, came towards. The fiery ginger-haired shock trooper was sporting a broken arm in a sling and an ice pack over his left eye, courtesy of one of the massive Innie supermen throwing him across the room. The fact that he was still here, keeping an eye on his jarheads and looking as if he was still ready to throw down if anybody tried him, was a testament to just how tough the Helljumper was. "Lydia's a tough little thing. She'll be alright after a couple weeks' R&R." The sergeant glanced at a pair of Innies that passed pretty close by. "Yeah, well, that busted wing isn't gonna heal in two weeks." Rhineford commented on the arm, "This stupid fight just cost us a platoon sergeant and another three other jarheads if we have to do any fighting on Ludogorie."
"I'm more worried about us making it to Ludogorie without killing one another." Parker shot back, "We haven't even gotten to our damn destination, and we're already down seven troopers for injuries from shit like this. At this rate, we'll be too battered to do any good if there is any kind of conflict going on on Ludo." The soldier glared at an Innie, who was giving them a sour look. The two seemed to stare one another down for ages until the Innie finally balked and moved on. Since the fight had ended, this was the extent of any hostility between the two sides. Just an occasional glaring at one another until one balked. But eventually, someone was going to start something again. That's how it always was between the Innies and the UNSC.
Why would it ever change? If both sides hate one another, how could one possibly hope for cooperation?
Takashima Satomi watched silently as the incident died down, contemplating everything she just saw.
Though Barnes and Rhineford had done their best to try and downplay all the division amongst the UNSC and URF, as she had come to know the two groups, it was clear to her that these factions within what was becoming called the 'Dominion' were often times just moments away from all-out brawling with one another. There was much bad blood between the two sides, something she couldn't help but feel as if the feud between Sky and Marsh Country wasn't something too dissimilar. Two people with a shared and joint history, now outright enemies. However, that was just about where the similarities ended. For all of their faults and grudges, the factions that once belonged to the UNSC and URF were attempting to work together, albeit with a modicum of success. Try as she might, the young kunoichi could never picture Sky Country and Marsh Country working together for anything.
Satomi could see the two factions more or less staying amongst their own, occasionally eyeing the other with what could at best be described as suspicion and at worst, contempt. With the way they treated each other, she could only imagine how bad it was with this Covenant that it forced them to work together. She was just grateful none of this hatred was directed at her chunin team or herself. Instead, she had thankfully been busy dealing with a less threatening but equally infuriating issue of her own.
The 'cultural shock' that her chunin were currently being exposed to by the 'Terrans.'
From Waypoint to countless types of cuisine. From the different types of clothing and languages to incredible medicine and... 'adult' holo-vids (the Innie crew had thought it was hilarious showing the dumbfounded teenagers those holo-vids. Satomi hadn't.), the teenaged ninjas were more or less overwhelmed by all of the various items and luxuries that the Terrans seem to have in vast quantities. It seemed as if nothing they could think of was in short supply. At least, at first. In reality, Satomi quickly discovered that the URF rebels more or less hoarded resources whenever they could, especially during ship travels. Being traitors and insurgents against the official government of humanity, resupplying your stocks wasn't easy to do. Especially if the government knew you'd decided to rebel. There were two ways to do this for most rebels, either buy the supplies, usually out of pocket and sometimes at inflated prices given the person selling them was often putting themselves at risk for even selling goods to rebels, or they could steal them from various places. Each option had its own risks and benefits, but both meant that the rebel was often times forced to hoard resources in lieu of a reliable supply chain to resupply from.
She'd learned much of this from the ship's supply officer, Ahmad. Ahmad, being a mild-manner and surprisingly polite man, hadn't struck her as the kind of person who'd rebel against a government of any kind. He seemed more like someone who'd be working a small farm somewhere. Curiosity had gotten the better of her, or more likely, a desire to understand the dynamics of these star people's various factions, so she asked him about what had compelled him to join a group of rebels. His answer surprised her when he spoke up about his background.
Flashback
Thunder Child Main Armory
"I used to own a large plantation on a world called Asmara in the Outer Colonies," Ahmad said, looking up at the young Kunoichi while continuing his work on a large firearm mount on some sort of three-legged mount. If Satomi recalled correctly, a machine gun and one of the Terran's bigger ones. Swabbing some metal rod down one of the weapons' three barrels, the darker-skinned man grunted slightly as he met some resistance in pulling the rod back out of the gun. After a few more moments of struggling, the rod came free, revealing a small rag at the end of it covered in residue.
"It was a beautiful world. Nice, mild winters. Summers were a little hot but bearable. At least compared to Actium." Ahmad said, reminiscing with a small smile. Satomi was still learning about most of the names of these supposed worlds the terrans had colonized, but Actium was one she knew from Rhineford and the other helljumpers. Another Fortress World, like Reach, but more aptly named than the latter. (Considering it's named after some massive battle from ancient history. Reach just sounded like they got lazy with the name, in her mind.) She heard the 40-something man continue with his story, "Asmara was an Agricultural World. A world designated for growing lots of livestock, mineral water, and crops to help feed other worlds. The soil on Asmara was perfect for growing crops, especially things like beans and maize, in vast amounts.
Satomi had a blank expression on her face at that last word. "Maize?" What the hell is that?
"Yeah, maize. Corn? What, you've never- ah, they must not have that where you're from. A food and cash crop that's easy to grow and maintain in just about any condition." Ahmad said in contemplation. "Kinda like how rice is, but a bit more nutritious." Satomi nodded in understanding at this while the Actian Native continued on. "Anyway, Asmara was relatively new real estate for people wanting to farm the land. It was only about 30 years old when my parents moved us out there to try our luck at farming and to get away from Actium's tax rates." He added the last part with a chuckle, wiping the outside of the barrels as he spoke. Someone poked their head in, asking for something called a 'grease gun' as they spoke. The supply master quickly fished some strange device out of a toolbox and tossed it to the grateful mechanic before turning back to the machine gun and Satomi.
"Why go into farming instead of one of those other jobs, then?" Satomi inquired, "Seems like you went through a lot of effort when the other jobs sounded much easier to get into?"
"Because I don't know the first thing about industry," He laughed, "And I didn't want to join the military. My family came from generations of farmers and warehouse owners. So the two things we knew best were farming and supplies."
"But... to move to an entirely different world-" Satomi started but was waved off by Ahmad, "Actually isn't all that difficult. Most people tend to overthink all the work required to do it, both physical and paperwork. For farming specialists, it's pretty straightforward. UEG always wants more people working the agri-worlds to help feed the colonies just as much as they want people working the industry and mining sites. Problem is they can never agree on which is more important at the moment. The Senate's always been useless like that."
That reminded her. These people's government was a republic, where the peasants- erm, citizens voted their leaders in. And not just a handful of powerful people or extremely wealthy. Everyone within their nation was allowed to vote. (Those registered to do so.) It was vastly different from the various fiefdoms and dynasties that ruled over the nations of Edo. The only things she could think of that were remotely similar were small towns electing their mayors and the Jounin Vote Konoha did to help decide their next Hokage. Some of the Hidden Villages had similar systems to Konoha, but Marsh Village didn't, being as young of a village as it was.
Given that it was only on its second Numakage, the Hidden Marsh essentially followed the government of absolutism, the Kage having the final say and deciding who their successor shall be upon death or retirement. Her grandfather, Takashima Korenaga, had founded the Hidden Marsh when the region rebelled against the collapsing Sky Empire and, upon his death, had chosen her father to succeed him. No one had questioned it, mainly because her grandfather and father were both considered war heroes, and nobody would try to compete with that. Hell, her father had managed to maim the Lightning God, Kuribayashi Nakazo, himself. That itself was a legendary feat no one had managed to accomplish.
"If a group of people elected in by you is seen as useless, why go through with such a system?"
"Because as somebody once said, 'Democracy is the worst form of government, aside from all the others tried.' Democracy may not be perfect, but it's better than anything else because we still get a say in how things are run. Unfortunately, sometimes that system starts to fall apart, so it's up to the people to sometimes take matters into their own hands and make sure the system continues to work as intended. The old American Republic from the 21st century had that idea right. People were just too divided and only took action once it was too late. Let the inmates run the asylum. Then again, lots of stupid shit was going on then, hence why it's typically referred to as the Lost Century or simply the Stupid Age in jest." Ahmad answered back as if explaining to an adolescent. For Satomi, this seemed like a flawed system susceptible to quick corruption. The monarchies and fiefdoms that dominated Edo seemed much more stable in her eyes. You knew who was in charge and where everyone stood in the social order. But they were getting off subject.
"Huh... So you were telling me about how you went from a farmer to a rebel?"
"Right, right. Sorry. Sometimes I like to ramble," the older man sheepishly said, "Anyway, we left Actium for Asmara and bought a nice plot of land, perfect for farming. We were in a small settlement, Sherfield, of maybe three thousand people." It amazed Satomi how he made three thousand inhabitants living in one place sound so small when she'd been to countless villages and towns across East Edo that barely housed a hundred people, "but we were isolated and proud of it. Isolated but self-sufficient. Nice and prosperous, too."
"For the first ten years of our time there, it was the closest you could get to paradise." The older man's smile seemed to widen as he reminisced about more peaceful times before Ahmad continued, "Insurrection was picking up in the Outer Colonies at the time, but it never really came to Asmara aside from a few car bombings in 2513. The Constabulary quickly caught the guy causing those, though, and we had no more problems afterward. Anyway, it was around autumn in '23 when it happened."
"What?" The smile disappeared from Ahmad's face, replaced with something dark and foreboding as the memories flashed through his mind.
"The Sherfield Incident." Ahmad said, scorn thick in his voice as he spoke, "At least, that's what the UEG and Press called it. Officially, it was the only major event of the Insurrection to occur on Asmara, where URF elements attempted to incite a rebellion against the local UEG Government. Tragically ended with the destruction of Sherfield and the death of most of its residents."
Satomi, suspicious of the foreboding tone in the man's voice, asked as he went silent, "And... unofficially?"
"... It was around August on Asmara, if you were following the UNSC Military Calendar, when it happened. Some neighborhood kids liked to go off exploring the woods around our town. Typical kid stuff. Seeing the world and learning what it had. Those poor young fools." Ahmad started off, his voice heavy with memories that were preferably forgotten, "The kids had stumbled upon this cave about a mile or so from our town, deep in the woods. Now caves were nothing new. There were dozens of them scattered across our little corner of Asmara, some rich with mineral deposits, but this one was different."
"It wasn't a natural cave formation. It was a goddamn underground alien base."
"The... Forerunners, right?" Satomi asked, trying to remember the name of the supposed 'aliens' that Barnes and the other briefly went over when they talked. Supposedly, the 'Covenant' they were at war with worshiped them as gods, which struck Satomi as odd to do when it was obvious that they weren't anything of the sort from what she's been told. These Forerunners sounded incredibly powerful, but she doubted they were outright gods. But another question lingered in her head as she thought about them.
If they were so powerful and dominant over the entire galaxy, where had they all disappeared to?
She didn't get a chance to dwell on the thought as Ahmad nodded, "The very same. It was some underground base, maybe the size of the town itself. Not big compared to some of the stuff I've heard they've built, but for a small town like ours in the middle of nowhere, it's big news either way. And of course, kids being kids, when they discover something new and exciting like that, obviously they're going to run back into town and tell everyone who'll listen."
He sighed, "That had been mistake number one." Ahmad followed this up with a small swig from his canteen, "The second mistake was probably the worst of them. After pestering everyone enough about it, someone finally decided to humor the kids and go see this supposed alien base. Unfortunately, that someone was also an aspiring scientist wanting to make her 'big break' into the science community. Nice lady, just always hyped up on creating some invention to try and get her name out to the community. And by god, she lost it when she realized that the kids weren't pulling her chain. There really was an ancient alien base out in one of the caves."
"The scientist was stoked, of course. This was her big break, her entry into the bigger scientific community. So she starts researching the site, gathering data and any relics of note that she could study. She did everything she could to try and understand the site, but the place had no power and hardly anything worth collecting. So she did the only thing she could think of." Ahmad said the last part with a bit of scorn, silent for a moment before continuing, "She reached out on Waypoint for help researching the site... and that had been the third fatal mistake."
"Why? Wouldn't it be better to get help if it's needed?"
"... Because that's what-" Ahmad started to say but was cut off by the intercom system overhead blaring, 'Ahmad. Julio, here. Need you to report to Sub-Armory B and take a look at our infantry ordinance and see how many explosives we've got stored. That dickwad ODST Colonel is breathing down my neck wanting to know how much we've got and I can't find the list anywhere. Out.'
The supply officer sighed, "Of course, they'd want to know that." and stood up from the machine gun he was working on, "Well. Looks like we'll have to continue the story some other time, ma'am. Just one last thing before I go."
"What?"
"... DEIMOS... Ask your ODST friends what they know about Deimos. And maybe then, you'll realize you shouldn't be so quick to trust them."
Back to Present Time
She hadn't gotten another chance to talk with Ahmad about the rest of his story since that time, but the word. DEIMOS. It had stuck with her, for some strange reason. When she looked up what it was, it only added more confusion than answers. Some stuff about an ancient god of dread and terror, or some moon in the Terran's home star system named after said god. She hadn't asked Oliver or the others about it yet, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. Maybe she would ask them later today, but for now she was more interested in observing the fight and processing what this said about these Terrans as a whole.
From what best she could see, despite their best attempts at cooperation, there was clearly lots of factions and bad blood all around. They had all been supposedly fighting one another in some massive civil war called the Insurrection for decades, before the Covenant arrived and forced them to put their differences aside for the sake of survival. But clearly, that didn't mean old grudges had been forgotten if this fight had shown anything. Was the Covenant really so terrible that it was forcing two factions like this, who despised one another, to work together? And if so, how in Kami were they going to succeed against such a foe together when they could barely stand one another?
The more and more she learned about this Covenant, and the Terrans' civil war, the more she grew concerned with the Covenant.
36 Days Later
February 12, 2544
Alpha Imura System
Thunder Child Bridge
The fleet arrived to the Alpha Imura System without any further issues. Over three hours, the expeditionary fleet transitioned piecemeal back into real space, but as was usually the case with Shaw-Fujikawa Drives, the fleet was out of formation and spread across hundreds of thousands of kilometers. Luckily, they were only about an hour's fly-time from their destination in the system.
A small moon was displayed on the holotable, orbiting an Ice Giant that served as the star system's only planet. In the dying years of the Domus Diaspora, humanity's vast colonization effort that propelled them to an interstellar civilization, the moon had been home to a small mining outpost and refueling station for starships traveling to the newly formed Outer Colonies, particularly to Ludogorie. But the resources had proven scarce and quickly exhausted, and the refueling station quickly became unnecessary as the colonies became more developed and expansive. Ultimately, the CMA abandoned the system sometime in the 2420s, leaving the infrastructure and the station where they were, but stripped the colony of anything that would have been useful at the time. Nearly a century later, in the 2510s, elements of the URF stumbled upon the forgotten site and quickly went to work putting it to their own uses. They had effectively turned the site into a base for the Insurrection, building deep into the moon to minimize their presence on the surface. Expanding on the works of the initial site, several thousand people now called 'Port Liberty' home, with room to house tens of thousands if needed. Stockpiled with food, medicine, and munitions to last a years-long siege, it had served as a secret base for the URF to stage attacks and raids all across the Isbanola Sector, where Visok and a few outer colonies were located. In some weird twist of irony, it was now going to help them save one of those very colonies it once terrorized.
Or it would have been if it wasn't currently being destroyed.
Leonard Barnes could hear several rebel crewmembers conversing quietly amongst themselves, some cursing while others fearfully murmured. Two of the massive Captain's Guards, Karson and Wambua, stood silently beside him as they viewed the destruction of a moon, though he could have sworn he heard Karson mutter, "Bastards." under his breath. Poor Rebecca was worse for wear, hyperventilating and looking as if she wanted to scream and rip something to bloody ribbons, even with Desiderio holding her in place. The fight they just had was a testament to just how fearsome the small woman was (if his newly acquired black eye wasn't enough.), but after several minutes of countermanding suicidal rescue orders, fighting, and a few fists being thrown, she'd finally been subdued. No small part in her usually staunchly loyal guards taking his side for a change, who agreed there was nothing they could do to save the inhabitants. This may have been another random Innie outpost for Barnes, but for Rebecca, this had been what she called home for the first fourteen years of her life. And now she was watching it be destroyed. Her first glassing and the victim was a place special to her heart. No wonder she was on a warpath. It wouldn't have done any good, even if they'd risk the engines going critical to race to the colony's rescue.
The Covenant Battlegroup would have been long finished with the colony's destruction by then.
"Richards. How many are sensors picking up?" Karson asked the man operating the sensor station. "Just the seven orbiting Liberty is all our sensors are detecting." The bridge hand named Richards called out, "Three destroyers and three frigates, according to readings. And fuck me if that isn't a battlecruiser in the center of those bastards."
"Too bulky to be a battlecruiser." Leon commented, studying the flagship before announcing, "Heavy Cruiser. ORS-Class. Ain't seen one of those in a good few years."
"Is there a difference?" Karson asked bitterly, arms crossed as Barnes glanced at him, "More armor, more shields, and way more firepower. Spooks believe it's an older model of Covenant Cruiser. Largely phased out or delegated to support fleets. They ain't too common. In all my years fighting the Covies, I've only ever seen 'em fielded thrice. This makes number four. And it's bad whenever one shows up. Apparently, the Covenant doesn't let just any hingehead command these older ships. You gotta earn it. And y'all can bet that the Covie fuck in charge of that ship knows his shit." A small flight of Seraphs could be seen dropping plasma charges onto some unknown portion of the colony on the holotable, with small explosions being registered on sensors. With the three frigates holding position just above the starport, it was hard to tell if the Covenant had landed any troops ground side. He'd have been surprised if they had bothered. Unless they suspected the humans had some valuable data, they probably went straight to bombarding the settlement. The remains of Corvettes, small weakly armed ships that served as the only form of defense the colony had, according to the databanks, and a trio of cargo ships could be seen drifting lazily in a slow orbit next to the remains of the refueling station. If there had been a fight in orbit, it had been quick and decisively one-sided. The only possible silver lining was that there were supposed to be four ships protecting the colony, but IFF tags only identified three corvette wrecks. One might have managed to escape.
"So what the hell's our play here?" SSgt Jackson asked, shifting uncomfortably at being surrounded by so many Insurrectionists. "Can't save the colony. Sure as hell aren't going to risk attacking that battlegroup with the entire civie fleet behind us. Do we wait it out and see what they do? Or bail and beeline to Visok?"
"Can't do a straight jump." Barnes countered, "Cole Protocol. They can track our slipspace trajectories. Those Covies follow or track us, and we'll have an entire fucking Armada throwing itself at Ludo before we know it. And while we're trying to evac? You're asking for a massacre."
"So what? We just do a blind jump and pray they don't follow? You know how hard that would be to synchronize this many ships to conduct a blind jump to the same coordinates?!"
"Yes, actually. Outright impossible." Barnes answered, "Too many ships, too many variables that could go wrong, hence why no one tries it."
Satomi and her chunin squad stood in stunned silence at the holographic display as the small colony was annihilated, and the Terrans argued with one another over their next course of action. She had never seen such a sight or such a display of destruction. It looked as if an entire portion of the moon was on fire as the surface was turned into molten magma from the bright balls of death launched by the alien vessels. Though appearing indiscriminate, it slowly seemed to her that there was a sort of pattern to their bombardment. As if they were using their terrible weaponry to carve a symbol upon the moon's surface while the colony was decimated. Violent plums of magma were thrust into the atmosphere, twisting and writhing with the impact of plasma ordinance, as if the moon itself was lashing out in death throes. And the colony... Oh, how the colony burned. There wasn't a single building left on the surface that was left unstruck by the Covenant's hate-filled barrage, some of the metal now so scorching hot that the buildings were literally melting where they stood. This was her first look at the Covenant in action, and it terrified her. She hadn't even seen them in person firsthand, and it still terrified her. She began picturing this happening on Shensei; to her village. Being attacked was one thing, but attacked by an enemy from the sky where you can't even strike back? The thought sent cold chills into her very core.
And if this was how they were in the skies, what were their warriors like when they deemed a ground assault necessary?
"First time seeing a glassing. Not a pretty sight, is it?" She heard Parker say next to her in a sympathetic voice, his expression emotionless as he watched an event he'd witnessed dozens of times play out once again. The Covenant were slowly easing up on their bombardment of the colony, either satisfied with its destruction or having noticed the human fleet that had arrived. As the last specks of lights came slamming down onto the planet, Satomi could see a massive symbol of sorts was burning fiercely within the surface of the moon. A grim display of art or pious devotion to the gods these aliens supposedly worshipped.
'All combat vessels, this is Rear Admiral Simmons. The Covenant cannot be allowed to report back to their leaders about our presence. All ships go to TAC CON Alpha 2* and prepare to engage the enemy. We can't save the colony, but we will avenge it. Simmons, out.' Simmons suddenly announced over comms, with the Everest being shown forming a core comprising of the fleet's heavier warships, including the three sole cruisers, a trio of Tours-Class* Light Cruisers from Falkirk, in the fleet aside from Everest. The carriers were hanging behind the Cruiser battlegroup with a few ships to act as escort, while a contingent of 11 ships of older and outdated frigates and corvettes were hanging back to pull escort for the civilian fleet. Thunder Child was being ordered to form up within one of the two newly designated battlegroups comprised of destroyers and frigates. They were to move with their battlegroup on the 'right wing' of the Covenant ship in what could best be described as a massive pincer maneuver on the holotable, with the fleet using its superior numbers to encircle and overwhelm the Covenant battlegroup through sheer volume of fire.
'Textbook strategy from Cole's playbook,' Barnes thought while studying the movement orders and dispersion of the fleet, 'Guess ole Simmons really had been paying attention to his CO after all those years being stuck as his second-in-command.' He turned to Desiderio and Rebecca, who had calmed down somewhat but was still fuming with barely contained fury. She wanted blood, alien blood, and by god, she was going to get it. "Captain, I think we should get everyone suited up and prepare for possible atmospheric venting. I'll get my troopers suited up-"
"Wait!" Someone shouted, catching everyone's attention, "What the hell are they doing?!"
Recon Lance of Penance
Battlegroup of the Fleet of Furious Retribution
Varric-Pattern Heavy Cruiser
Purveyor of Condemnation
Bridge
"Our sensors confirm at least 60 known human warship types. Shipmaster! We are outnumbered, over 8 to 1!" The bridge hand declared urgently. The rest of the bridge was in a state of hurry. It wasn't anxiousness or fear, but anticipation as the crew manned their stations with pious and fervent vigor. And what Sangheili Warrior wouldn't be invigorated at such a sight? Here before them and by the grace of the gods, a titanic battle worthy of song and legend. Especially for so many looking to regain their honor aboard dishonorable ships. For the Fleetmaster, it was a waste of life vainly being thrown away. Three Ester-pattern armored frigates, three Wik-pattern destroyers, and an old but powerful Varric-Pattern cruiser that served as his flagship made up the contingent of his 'fleet.' 7 vessels of the holy empire against 60 human attack ships, assuming non of the 'unarmed' vessels joined the battle. (Which they rarely did unless pressed.)
Fleetmaster Hurok 'Wattinree* did not like the situation he found himself in.
The odds were not entirely hopeless, however. With his seven vessels, he was more than a match for the swarms of smaller ships, the free-guts, and dee-stroi-urs that comprised three-quarters of the human fleet. Weakly armored, his vessels could make short work of them. Ton for ton, he outclassed them in offense and defense, but the problem was that they vastly outnumbered him to the point that destruction was all but assured. He could devastate their battle fleet, maybe even make a strike or two against their civilian fleet, but the humans would still emerge victorious. Hurok could already picture in his head how it would play out. The humans would attempt to use speed and an overwhelming first strike to destroy his ships, surrounding his battlegroup and firing their massive coilguns, their MAKs, in a single mass barrage. Meanwhile, he would utilize all 34 of the plasma torpedo silos amongst his ship to launch his own first strike to try and thin their numbers out. It would ultimately depend on who fires first faster, but even with a first shot, the odds were still stacked against him. Maybe half of the torpedoes would strike true, but in this day and age of the war, just as many were likely to be intercepted by the humans' new torpedo countermeasure. (And what a simplistic yet infuriatingly effective countermeasure it was. A simple missile full of large metal strips of nickel or cobalt would be launched and detonated in front of the torpedo, the ferromagnetic metal disrupting the magnetic fields that 'guide' the torpedo to its target as it impacts the field of 'chaff,' causing it to dissipate into a harmless cloud of gas.)
Every strategy and counter he could think of resulted in the same outcome in his mind. He could bloody them if they fought but would lose. And that was unacceptable.
"What do you think, Mentor?" The Fleetmaster addressed an older Sangheili standing next to him. His Ship's Second, Das 'Zocamai. Easily over twice as old as Dekar, Das had been his mentor since he was a youngling. Donning a Bausatti-pattern harness* with scores of dents and scars from countless battles on it, though with the helmet off, the elder Sangheili was both a Blademaster and a member of the esteemed Evocati, holding the title of Evocati Delegatus* amongst the Evocati in his small fleet. Though now 43 years old, gifted with shrewdness and cunning, and now superior in status and rank, the Fleetmaster had always felt like he was still a youngling compared to the elder warrior next to him.
"The odds do not look well for us." Das conceded, eyeing the holographic display without any expression that gave away his thoughts, "If we engage that fleet, we would certainly be destroyed."
"But we must engage it!" Another voice called out next to them, catching both of their attention. The Fleetmaster's Second*, Shipmaster Kida 'Vazamee, boldly strode forward to make his case. Like Dekar, Kida was another young, gifted commander who'd risen through the ranks through merit and skill. But also, like Dekar, he'd fallen afoul of their Supreme Commander's temper and had been banished to the Fleet's Penance Lance as punishment. Dekar, not one to waste such assets, quickly seized the young commander as his new Second. But like many Sangheili who'd been 'disregarded' if not outright disgraced, he was anxious to attain glory and honor for both himself and his clan. Unfortunately for Sangheili Warriors, this usually meant throwing themselves into what would normally be considered outright suicidal endeavors in hopes of either surviving and forging a legendary tale of bravery or dying and forging a legendary tale of heroic death. Dekar, like any self-respecting Sangheili warrior, had no fear of dying. However, that didn't mean he would throw his life away at the first opportunity. He would prefer to die doing something worthwhile instead of for pride. Despite his best efforts, Kida 'Vazamee has not quite grasped this concept and was still rather insistent on retaining honor more than anything. But Kida was smarter and more practical than most shipmasters of his rank, so Dekar still held some optimism of getting through to him.
After all, there were many ways to achieve glory and honor that didn't require an honorable or outright suicidal death.
"That decision is not yours to make, Shipmaster." Dekar countered sternly, but Kida was persistent if anything, "But the enemy is there! With such a collection of the enemy before us, especially hundreds of vulnerable civilian craft, the gods must surely be showing us favor. We must bring glory to our names, to our kin, and attack!" The Fleetmaster sucked in a breath, bringing his flaring temper under control as soon as it had risen. 'Patience.' He told himself, 'He is still learning.'
"And what," Hurok began to ask, "would that accomplish, Shipmaster 'Vazamee?" Good, he remembered to use the shipmaster's name. It always seemed to create a more receptive response when his associates are addressed by their names and titles, "We are but seven ships facing an armada numbering in the hundreds. We would be destroyed well before we could get close to that fleet. And with what to show for it? Even the most foolhardy of Jiralhanae would know better than to attack with such odds. The information acquired from this human base is far more important than some unnecessary battle."
"But to retreat in the face of the enemy... Without giving battle... It would be disgraceful! A shameful display!"
"To needlessly die in a futile battle and lose the vital information we have acquired would be even more disgraceful and shameful. What is more important to you? Satiating your honor's bloodlust or serving the gods as needed?" Hurok countered with strained patience but reined in his temper through sheer will. But luckily for him, the shipmaster did not seem to have a response for this question, having the decency to look abashed. Deciding that the conversation had ended for now, he turned his attention back to the holographic display, "Has the strike force returned from the human colony? What is their status?"
One of his bridge staff quickly responded, "Their Spirit has returned, and the Special Operations team reports they have acquired the data from the colony's databanks. They could only retrieve part of it before the data was purged. But Commander Uzinaree reports that the location of seven human colonies has been seized from the databanks." This earned a cheer from the bridge crew, celebrating what was no doubt a resounding success and bringing them all one step closer to their honor's redemption. Even the bloodthirsty sourpuss of a shipmaster 'Vazamee seemed to beam up at the revelation. When they'd discovered this world's existence following the capture of a human core-vett, and Hurok revealed his plan to destroy it and acquire vital intelligence he was certain the colony had on other locations, the rest of the battlegroup's leaders had been very skeptical. It relied too much on stealth, deception, and other undesirable tactics that were frowned upon by the Sangheili as a whole. Especially when lost honor was at stake. Nevertheless, he'd persuaded them to go along with the plan and deployed one strike force of Special Operations Sangheili for the mission. The painstakingly long units spent waiting for an update from the strike force as it traversed through the colony's interior, searching for its databanks, was agonizing for them as the battlegroup stayed cloaked, Hurok worried that they would be discovered at any moment given their proximity to the moon. But, by the grace of the gods, they finally received the message they'd been waiting for. /Databank located. Secured. Human personnel eliminated. Extracting information now. The fools remain blind to us.\ There was jubilation for the battlegroup, especially Hurok, at the success of the infiltration. However, it didn't last long. The strike force was compromised soon after by human patrols as they tried to get ahold of the now-dead personnel inside the databanks servers. Determined to extract the strike force before it could be pinned down, Hurok finally gave the order to break cloaking and engage the meager defenses the humans had over their colony, much to the delight of the shipmasters. The battle had been embarrassingly short, as the human ground defenses anything capable of flight were swatted aside within minutes of opening hostilities. The following extraction was hectic, as the 10-Sangheili Spec-Ops File* had to fight through hundreds of human defenders armed with an assortment of weaponry, but they were able to extract the strike force without a single loss. And their reward for such daring and ingenuity? Seven worlds. Seven Worlds for the Covenant to bring the holy light of their gods to for cleansing. Such a bounty of worlds discovered in one swift motion had not been achieved before to his knowledge, not to mention an assortment of technical data on various human technologies and firearms, so surely this would be received favorably by the High Council once it was delivered to them. To hell with Supreme Commander 'Chanom. That overzealous and petty fool had dispersed his fleet across a dozen star systems chasing a fable, yet had sent his sole recon lance on mundane assignments such as investigating clearly empty systems for human activity, while 'Chanom wasted time chasing after a mythical relic the Prophet of Penitence, the fleet's assigned San'Shyuum, had convinced him was near. It was obvious what the Commander was doing, keeping him away from making any sort of name for himself and redeeming his honor or standing, but Hurok could make no moves against someone with the blessing of the Hierarchs. Not without justification or his own blessing from the Hierarchs.
This bounty of information would be that blessing and the commander's condemnation.
"Excellent. Have him bring the data up here immediately." Hurok ordered, before turning his attention back to the human fleet that had arrived. So far it hadn't changed course but wasn't making any attempts to increase its speed to try and intercept them. 'They know they can't save the colony, so they're making no attempt to.' He thought, cooly calculating how long the human attack force would take to get within weapons range. 'About one unit*, give or take a few sub-units.' He still had plenty of time to devise a strategy for fighting the human force, but as earlier, every strategy he came up with would ultimately result in defeat. And defeat was unacceptable, not with everything he's thrown into acquiring the intel he's gathered. It was time to leave with their bounty. "Fleetmaster, your orders?" Shipmaster 'Vazamee inquired, "Shall we prepare for battle with the humans?"
"No." The one-word reply caught the whole bridge crew's attention. An unpopular decision, no doubt, but necessary. They simply didn't see the bigger picture yet. But once they did, he would have their loyalty for all time if he hadn't earned it already. The fact that not one voice protested his decision spoke volumes about their trust in his leadership. "We got what we were seeking. Now it is time to withdraw. Prep the jump into the void and rendezvous with the nearest battlegroup."
With those words, an opening of slipspace portals, and to the bafflement of all within the human fleet, the Fall of Port Liberty ended.
*TAC CON Alpha 2= The second highest tactical condition. Tac Con Alpha 2 is ordered when the ships are preparing to engage in vessel-to-vessel combat with enemy combatants, usually, on a major scale.
*Tours-Class= A fictional Light Cruiser of mine, designed as a wartime replacement for the Halcyon-Class. While also 1,170 meters in length, as the Halcyons were, the Tours-Class shares a structural design and aesthetic more similar to the Marathon and Valiant Heavy Cruisers. Having been stuck in development hell for nearly a decade due to political infighting within the navy and backwater dealings, the cruiser finally launched in September of 2528, using what few lessons had been learned about the Covenant in that time in the design. Armor was sacrificed for speed and firepower, having only 144 cm of Titanium-A Armor, but its superstructure is partially honeycombed (a concept inspired by the Halcyon-Class it replaced), giving it some degree of survivability. Its armament consists of two Mark III 14B11R2 MACs, the same ones used by the Halberd-Class Destroyer (Which would actually give it four MAC guns, an unheard-of feature on a cruiser.), 32 missile pods containing 25 missiles each, and 14 point-defense guns, making it a formidable warship. With losses heavy from nearly two decades of war, Falkirk is the only other human nation outside of the UNSC that possesses any Tours-Class Cruisers.
*Hurok Wattinree= Some of you may be familiar with him from my discontinued Halo-Mass Effect story. I decided I wanted to bring him back, along with a couple of others, as he's definitely one of my better-developed characters. Was waiting for the right opportunity to introduce him. He'll be playing a significant role within the Ludogorie Arc, but that won't be the last we see of him either.
*Bausatti-pattern combat harness= The armor used by Elite Ultras in Halo: Reach.
*Evocati/Evocati Delegatus= The Elite Ultras, the ones with white armor, from the Halo Games.
*Second= A rank aboard a Covenant Vessel, typically depicted as a Second-in-Command.
*File= A file is an administrative grouping of low-tier warriors under the command of an officer. The commander of the file is referred to as a "file leader". A file is roughly analogous to a human military squad.
*Unit= Covenant measurement of time. Roughly equal to one hour on Earth. Also sometimes used as a unit of measurement. The sub-unit is a non-canon entity I've added, essentially the Covenant version of a minute.
So after a lot of contemplating and consideration, I've realized that I've gotten a bit too ambitious with this story and trying to write from the viewpoint of so many characters, which is slowing down the progress of the story considerably. Therefore, I've decided to try and narrow down the number of viewpoints to as few as possible. Here's what I've got:
1. Leonard Barnes and to a lesser extent Rebecca and Preston Cole. Their stories are somewhat interconnected.
2. Oliver Rhineford and Takashima Satomi (Since their stories are largely interconnected)
3. Ami-072 and Spartan Team Sigma (May end up getting their own story)
4. Uzumaki Kushina (and Dekar 'Nythrus)
5. Yasuda Tetsuo
6. Hurok Wattinree (Maybe, probably will keep him to Tales from Slipspace, but we'll see.)
All other characters previously explored will have their own stories and various others in a new set of tie-in stories to be written in the near future:
Halo-Naruto: Helstadt's Finest
Halo-Naruto: Knights of Falkirk
Halo-Naruto: Task Force Hestati
Halo-Naruto: Tales from Shinsei
Halo-Naruto: Tales from Slipspace
These stories will be written with the help of other writers interested in the setting and want to add their own stories to the universe I've been building. Any writers reading this are also welcome to get in contact with me if they'd like to join in on writing stories for the setting as well. No set dates on when any of these will come out.
