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The following is a fan-based
FICTION
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"Nobody can see you die in Space"
October 19 2525 - Hour 1846
PFC Logan 'Log' Sutton
Tiara Space Station, Planet of Harvest
The elevator finally reached its destination. I felt a massive amount of dread pile up as the doors slowly opened to reveal the small room that connected to the main structure of the space station. For a while this was captured by the Covenant before being used by some of the survivors at the end of the battle to re-establish contact with the rest of the troops and coordinate the evacuation.
There was something that I couldn't understand as it was the basis of why I hadn't taken this plan into account until a bit after the end of the main battle: the Tiara should have been destroyed a few days ago. I could remember this much from First Contact, so I was a bit stunned when I realized it was still considered as 'Operational'. Did the Covenant steal it back before the AI Mack could have destroyed it? It was possible, which is why I was ready to wage a true war to whatever bastard had decided to turn this place as their grave. I checked around, looking at the corners for any cheeky Jackal trying to ambush anyone coming within the station and... yet I found something else.
Corpses. Many Kig-Yars, some Brutes, a morbidly pleasant amount of Grunts. I saw some movement, I looked upward to the origin of it and saw a turret looking around and checking for any target. It was clear it was the cause of this massacre. Maybe some more arounds helped too to contain the large number of invaders. Still, I froze on the spot when the medium-caliber MG stopped to look at me. There was a small camera tied to it. Much to my relief, it didn't shoot and resumed its common 'left and right' action to keep it moving rather than have it become a static target for any assaulters.
I delved deepers, my pace easing as I could tell that the Covenant had failed to secure the station. Which meant that there was someone else I could look for at the moment. It was a small chance but I was given an early birthday gift in the form of an holographic figure sitting within a tactical table with an orbital picture of how Harvest looked from above.
"Private First Class Logan Sutton. I was waiting for you," The female AI greeted politely, but mostly happily as it was possible that I was the first human face she saw in a while. I approached, my weapon aimed downward. Her chosen avatar was of a woman with long golden hair and green eyes. She wore an ankle-length sleeveless gown, and a red poncho that draped over her shoulders.
"I thought the procedure required the destruction of the station in case it fell into the enemy's hand," I muttered at the curious development, but I found myself frowning harder as her frame 'glitched'. I knew who I was talking to, but I was also worried about the last state of mind she was in before 'dying' in canon. Sif was supposedly going through a rare form of Rampancy caused by being half-killed by a military virus and being revived by a Huragok. I wasn't sure if I was talking with someone sane or not. An ally or a foe.
"Priorities have changed. The situation has changed. A new enemy- A deadly one."
"That's true. Still, could you identify yourself?"
A small smile appeared on her face. It was almost empty, clueless to proper emotion as endless feelings stormed her mind.
"Service code SIF 0204-8, I am the primary AI of the Tiara, and... the last one of us left."
"I suppose Loki deactivated itself," I guessed and the AI sighed.
"Yes. He tried to destroy my data center by shooting it with a Mass Driver. I... disagreed."
Her eyes gained more interest towards me. Sif wanted me to react to the idea she just told me she killed a fellow AI without a major reason within the UNSC's rule of engagement. If this would have been a normal circumstance, she would have been treated as a rogue AI and forced into termination. I was risking a lot by thinking otherwise, but I knew I needed help. She was the key for my plan to work.
"Have you checked the Aliens' communication system until now?"
A blink. "Yes. They are currently scrambling to lead the current expedition. They feel quite giddy of this victory, which is why their defenses within the system are so weak right now. I have a full read of their comms."
That was good to know. But still, as soon as she was done with this topic, Sif moved to another one. Something she was more interested in.
"Aren't you worried about the chances I could kill you too? I am not exactly as sane as I would normally be. I could snap at the wrong time."
Sif really wanted a reaction, and I didn't give her anything of that. Instead, I gave her something else- something that I knew she craved more than that.
"No," I said resolutely. "Not when I need you as much as you need me. I know little of rampancy, but I believe there is something that is currently making you angry. I want to kill that big thing with one of their small thingies."
I aimed a finger first at the battlecruiser and then to one of the lighter ships.
"Oh? You want to ram it or-"
"Ramming and exploding," I interrupted. "We destroy it, and what was lost here would at least have a proper value."
...
"What about leaving?" The AI argued, her frame standing up, but twitching and glitching again. "You would still get a medal by getting back now. It's not an order to-"
"Who ever said it was for a medal?" I interjected again, this time channeling anger as this was starting to piss me off. "I ain't here to run until I made sure that big crap goes down in flames. I want those that died here, my team, the others to have lost there for a good reason- I want the shitheads to pay for what they did. And you will help me with this suicidal plan of mine."
"Is... that a demand, Private?" An attempt to intimidate me. Her form turned from silver to red. But I kept my ground and glared back at her.
"It's a choice. You either stay idle and hope these bastards don't get to you, or we destroy their ship and leave in the chaos."
She chuckled, shaking her head as her form was restored to its original appearance as she pondered about this. "I would be decommissioned. I'm going to die anyway due to my rampancy. If you hadn't noticed, I will not live beyond this mission."
"But you will at least die with a fucking grin because you took down one of their more expensive toys in the process," I shot back. "So, do you want to die a hero, or do you want to die a terrified little girl."
Her mouth opened at the last few words, but she paused and thought more about it. The woman was quiet, seemingly checking on a couple of things and... nodding.
"My faulty estimations assure this will fail at 97.98888874%. Are you sure you really want to try?"
"It's worth a shot. Plus, three percent ain't that bad, lady."
Her smile was back. "I forgot you are a Marine, Private Sutton. Now, I believe we could... wait," Sif stopped mid-speech, her eyes aimed at my... gun? "Your current equipment is... ill-suited for proper close combat. I believe... Yes, that's the right place."
As she said that, I heard an automatic locker nearby open. I spared a quick look at Sif before walking up to check what she was referring to. I paused briefly over the items there, but quickly fished out the M45 Tactical Shotgun, pulling all the pellets in the two boxes stored inside the locker in my bag. I roughly had thirty-six shots before having to worry about running out of pellets. As I walked back, I saw Sif's frame disappear as a small chip was half-ejected by the main terminal. I walked up to retrieve her and then I shifted the chip right by the right port within my helmet. I was no Spartan, and my Neural Interface didn't allow for any wonderful AI-Man bond and the 'improvements' that would come out of it.
It's quite cramped. Can you hear me?
"Yes."
Good. Then I believe we should get going. Once we arrive at the hangar, I will release a jamming signal which will last roughly twice the time needed to reach the closest ship. Their radars will mistake friends with foes. We will board a D77-TC and fly as quickly as possible in their hangars.
"Then?"
Once we're close enough, I will hack their controls and use their security system to clear up the landing zone so we can enjoy a few more minutes of quiet while we find the control room.
"Sounds... fun," I hummed calmly, feeling like this was better than my previous 'ram a Pelican in their hangar and hope to kill as many defenders as possible in the process' plan. "Hope you are ready."
It's my duty. You said that.
"I didn't ask about your duty, Sif. How do ya feel about it? Personally-speaking."
Are you really asking that to a rampant AI?
"I want to know we're both up to it. I'm going in regardless, but I want to know if I have you with me."
She sighed exasperatedly. As long as you can keep up with my mood-swings, I believe we will be fine.
"Gotcha."
The walk up to the hangar was a rapid one. There were plenty of ships around to use. Some had been broken down, many were severely damaged from previous skirmishes, while a few good ones were available for immediate use. Just as I approached the one I was the nearest to, the AI spoke again, this time with a nervous tone.
By the way, can you actually drive one?
"We're trained at the boot camp. Standard Pelican driving."
Isn't that just two lessons, one of which is just theoretical?
I huffed as I entered inside the vehicle and reached the piloting seat. "Do you want the truth of the sugar coated lie?"
Just... fly us to our destination, Sutton.
"Roger that, lady."
Driving a pelican was like driving a car for the first time... except the car in question had more buttons and levers to keep track of. It also purred and roared louder. Still, I managed to remember the basis, and I started to get the DT77 to soar out of the exit point in the front and turn around to take the swiftest route to our destination. I saw a couple of formations made by Seraphs turn left and right in agitation, the intercepting ships failing to notice the vehicle as we had a smooth approach to our target.
I could tell this was the last spoonful of honey before the bitterness of the firefight I was going to face to reach the control room. I didn't mind it, but I hoped this plan actually worked now that we were so close to succeeding.
"Thela 'Vadamee? I can't believe it. Someone has to have made an error."
The Ship Master growled dryly at the annoying comment from the advisor that was berating the Sangheili Minor that had been 'summoned' for a 'mistake'. The real issue was that he had been personally offered to take in the unusual recruit by a close friend. A friend that was related to the young warrior. A lady, in the battlefield- it all sounded so ridiculous, but he had seen the results. She had to fight. For Sanghelios and its people's honors.
"A female allowed in our ranks? Our traditions are clear, she shouldn't be there-"
"Traditions are meant to be bent when necessary and due, Advisor. Lak 'Vadamee himself spoke favorably for her recruitment," The older Sangehili interjected, annoyance building up in his voice as he stared intensely at the upstart. The sharp remark was enough to draw him to silence, especially since that name had so much importance back home, that it would be right to almost assume Lak was a 'Prophet-rank' influential figure within their military. He was a valiant warrior and one that was known to have an eye in offering peculiar rookies to train and turn in fierce soldiers. Thela, from Lak's own comments, was no exception to that perception of his. And the Ship Master trusted this point of view more than just some flimsy tradition that hardly mattered if it was a limited recruitment of strong females in their forces. "She is a soldier and, as far as I was told, she did her duty as she was meant to. If she can fight, then she shall fight and prove her clan's honor in the battlefield."
The slimmer figure bowed her head at the compliment, but the Ship Master didn't give her much praise beyond that. He wanted to see things happen with his own eyes, but he doubted that was going to happen anytime soon considering their current luck. 'Harvest' had fallen with ease and the Humans proved to be unable to withstand the full might of a minor fleet of the Covenant Empire.
"Despite that, I will assure you that you shan't receive any luxury beyond the honor of being part in missions best-associated to your rank."
"I wouldn't ask for more, Ship Master," Thela answered humbly. "I will prove my worth just like the rest of my brothers of war."
"I hope you do," He muttered flatly, allowing for Thela to leave as he returned his attention to the greater concern at the moment. Something was going on with the communication array, and he could tell this wasn't any normal malfunction that happened in some parts of the galaxy. He had a hunch- something was soon going to happen, but... where?
And as the Ship Master tried to predict the possible negative event coming their way, a certain dropship managed to make it into a ship near to where this scene unfolded. They would be the closest spectators of the birth of someone they would soon learn to fear.
One that craved their demise... One by one.
AN
Pack many aliens in small, enclosed halls and pit them against someone with bad intentions and a shotgun? Is this the advent of the new Doom game? Rip and tear, Log... Rip and Tear.
P.S. Yes, the Arbiter is Female here. Wort Wort! (There are reasons why the Rating is M)